


Bleeding Love

by momentofclarity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American Louis, British Harry, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff and Smut, Girl Direction, Girls in Love, Miscommunication, Photographer Harry, University Student Louis, activist louis, famous/non-famous, fashion blogger harry, mention of police involvement, past homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16374062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofclarity/pseuds/momentofclarity
Summary: “I’m Harry,” Styles says like Louis didn’t know and she gestures for Louis to have a seat. “You want anything?”Louis is still considering running. This is absurd. Styles should be shooting daggers at Louis through her eyes, but she’s not. She’s looking at Louis like she’s a riddle waiting to be solved.Louis is an animal rights activist who throws red paint at fur coat wearing it-girl Harry Styles. Then there's a crack in the surface and something new starts bleeding through.





	Bleeding Love

**Author's Note:**

> Politics and activism are discussed in fairly shallow ways in this fic. The fic isn’t meant to be a political statement and neither of the characters are perfect or unflawed in their reasoning. **Both of them** have a lot of privilege that allows them to act the way they do.
> 
> There is brief mention of police involvement in the beginning of the story. Proceed with caution if that’s a difficult subject for you. 
> 
> Please ignore any and all inaccuracies when it comes to American politics and the education system. I deeply apologize to people who actually know anything about it. 
> 
> Thank you as always to the best most fantastic beta in the world. Have no clue what I’d do without you. 
> 
> Thank you to my friends who’ve helped me with this story, I hope you know how much I love you.
> 
> Thank you a billion times over to the mod of mods, you’re amazing.
> 
> Thank you to the prompter. This prompt challenged me in so many ways and by now I’m completely in love with it. I hope with all my heart that you enjoy this. Thank you. 
> 
> Have a good read!

Louis takes a deep breath and sinks into the hard plastic seat of the subway. Her leg insists on jumping and twitching with the rapid beat of her pulse, but she’s doing her best to stop it. Even though the air is fresh with a surprising September chill, droplets of sweat gather at her temples. 

It’s going to be alright.

Louis and her friends decided she should go by herself this time. One person is harder to spot and has an easier time getting lost in a crowd. She’s learned a lot since she was sixteen and got dragged away by security guards for the first time. Now she’s clad in inconspicuous jeans and a not-too-shabby t-shirt. She wishes she had a hoodie to hide under, but for some reason security is prone to look out for people sweating their asses off underneath a pulled up hood. 

Once out of the train, she hooks her backpack over her shoulder as adrenaline starts pumping through her veins and she bites her lip against an excited smile. She’s so close now. Please let her not throw up like that one time…

She carefully pushes her way to the front, against the barrier separating the sheep from the snakes. She puts her backpack on the ground, steady between her sneaker clad feet and waits. 

The first car pulls up and she checks to see who’s coming, if it’s one of  _ them. _ Waiting for the right moment to come, she shuffles her feet against the ground and tries to steady her breath. 

When the third car pulls up, she sees a fur-clad arm reaching out of the car door and before she has time to overthink things she’s crouching down, pulling out the plastic container of blood-red paint. Her ears thrum with noise, her eyes focus on the container in her trembling hands.

It takes all of two seconds. There’s a flash of brown curls over a shoulder, and then a loud scream as that poor dead animal is covered in paint. Louis freezes for a moment, staring at the image in front of her, the red shining in the afternoon sun and those brown curls matted down. 

And then she’s off.

Pushing through the crowd who miraculously  _ let her _ , Louis forgets all about her backpack and fingerprints on that plastic container. All she can think is out out  _ out _ . 

For a few precious moments she thinks that she’s made it, that she’s found a safe spot behind a dumpster three blocks down. She’ll have a moment to catch her breath before meeting up with her friends for celebratory pizza. 

She’s wrong. 

Not five minutes after that container of political statement left her fingers, a police officer yanks her arm. She sighs heavily and rambles her rights under her breath as a reminder as her pulse finally starts to slow down. 

This is not her first rodeo, after all.

\---

Turns out, she’s luckier than she thought. Turns out, if you decide to throw red paint all over someone on a red carpet, because that person thinks that slaughter is a cool look, you should throw it on a British fashion blogger with a rich family.

Harry Styles. Twenty-seven years old, originally from Northern England, arrived in the US at the age of ten because of her parents’ production company expansion. Apparently, she’s some sort of big deal in certain crowds. A quick google gives Louis something about photography, something about fashion and modeling. She seems like a person that’s not really  _ real _ , like someone who lives in a parallel universe. 

Louis doesn’t really _ care _ , just wants to know why this person, the girl who got drowned in watered-down paint,  _ wants to meet with her.  _

All Louis got was a call from her lawyer (her best friend Niall’s brother to be more precise) saying the woman agreed to not press charges if Louis agrees to a meeting with this _Harry Styles._ Face to face, just the two of them. Louis wondered for a panicked moment if she’d finally pulled the last straw, if she managed to target someone who actually wants revenge _._

Guess she’ll see. A coffee with a rich fashion blogger does sound pretty harmless… considering. 

\---

Harmless is the last thing on Louis’ mind as she makes her way to the appointed meeting spot though. She tries to convince herself she’s not anxious, but nerves twist in her belly because she doesn’t know what to expect. Will this woman be angry at her? Will she try to blackmail Louis into some sort of deal or what could possibly be her agenda? 

Unsurprisingly, the café is in a part of the city that Louis never really hangs out in. It makes sense for Styles to want to bring the wolf out of its den, to have the upperhand in whatever it is that might happen here. 

Entering the establishment Louis  _ is _ quite pleasantly surprised by the calm atmosphere and the earthy tones of the interior. Maybe she’s meant to be fooled by the calming vibes, before getting stabbed in the back. She reminds herself that she has no idea of how much is still up in the air. That Styles might change her mind about going back to the police depending on how the meeting goes, or if maybe she’s petty enough to arrange a meeting just to bring Louis the news of further police involvement herself. 

Louis’ heart beats up into her throat and she feels vaguely ill. Looking over towards the register, she catches movement in the corner of her eye and she turns her head to see Harry Styles waving at her. Styles’ eyebrows are pulled together and she looks… puzzled. Puzzled and vaguely familiar—like she’s someone Louis sees every morning on the subway. 

For the second time in the last couple of weeks, Louis begs her body to calm down so she won’t throw up. As she makes her way between the tables she considers just turning around and leaving because surely nothing could be quite as intimidating as this. It isn’t the first time she’s been in trouble for her actions, but the soft chatter around her seems particularly ominous, like any second the place will flood with bodyguards and sirens.

Getting closer, Louis is quickly hit by the fact that Harry Styles is absolutely gorgeous—even outside the pap shots and glamorous photoshoots she had stumbled across while researching Styles. For some reason that makes her nerves double. With brown curls down to her shoulders, plush pink lips and bright eyes (brighter than they come across in any pictures), Styles is absolutely stunning. She’s wearing something flowy with a gray and black pattern that looks endlessly flawless and probably costs more than Louis’ college tuition. She looks not really  _ real _ . 

“Hi, Louis, right?” Styles asks with a posh-sounding British accent, reaching a hand forward. A big hand with long ring-adorned fingers. 

“Yeah. Hi,” Louis says and grasps that hand in hers. Their handshake is warm and Louis hopes she’s not sweating too bad. She doesn’t want this beautiful creature to know anything about her, to reveal herself as so painfully human. 

“I’m Harry,” Styles says like Louis didn’t know and she gestures for Louis to have a seat. “You want anything?” 

Louis is still considering running. This is absurd. Styles should be shooting daggers at Louis through her eyes, but she’s not. She’s looking at Louis like she’s a riddle waiting to be solved. 

“No thanks.”

A few moments of silence fall between them as Louis sits, and Louis focuses on her breathing, on taking deep long breaths so she doesn’t start hyperventilating. For some reason she thinks that wouldn’t make a great impression.

“So. Thanks for meeting me.”

Louis’ pulse throbs against her throat and she wonders how she’ll make it through a whole conversation. She kind of wishes that Styles would bring out the artillery already.

“Thanks for not putting me behind bars.” The words fall out of her mouth like big warty frogs and she tries not to wince too obviously. She knows she has to stay calm, to seem  _ reasonable  _ in front of someone who probably thinks she’s both hysterical and a criminal. She just needs to get through this so she can move on with her life.

“Well, I didn’t think that’d be necessary. I just. I want to know why you did it.” Styles looks determined now, eyebrows drawn even closer together, lips pursed. 

Louis nearly snorts in surprise. She thought her message was pretty straight forward.

“I thought that would be fairly obvious…” Louis doesn’t know how she manages to sound both insecure and rude at the same time, but she’s got a lot of useless talents.

“I assume you think you did the right thing? That you believe in something so much that you think you have the right to do whatever you want?” There’s a bite to Styles’ tone.

Deep breaths.

“Not ‘whatever I want’, but sometimes the end goal is more important than the method. In my world, throwing paint at someone is rather harmless. Especially considering the violence that is used to get you your fancy clothes.” 

Okay wow, she’s really botching this up already, isn’t she?

Styles seems to contemplate her words and Louis’ belly does another summersault, cold goosebumps spreading down the length of her thighs. 

“I just… why  _ me _ ? What have I ever done to you? Who am I to you? Do you even know how terrifying that whole thing was?”

Honestly Louis hadn’t even considered that, and even now she’s thrown off by Styles’ self-centered focus.

“What makes you think  _ you’re  _ important here?” Maybe a bit harsh. “Like… I’m sorry you got scared, truly, but that only furthers my purpose. Don’t you think the animals you wear on your shoulders were scared? Don’t you think  _ they  _ deserved to be treated better? This just, it has  _ so _ little to do with you, and everything to do with the message. I didn’t even know who you were before it happened.” 

Louis notices she’s leaned forward in her seat and forces herself to sit back, while wondering if Styles will be insulted that Louis didn’t know who she was. Louis and her friends had only just picked up on the fact that, for some absolutely obscure reason, fur was coming back in style. After reading a couple fashion reports on the internet, they decided Fashion Week was an opportunity to spread awareness of just how deplorable the fur industry really is. Styles could’ve been anyone. 

Styles just stares at her, swallowing, collecting herself. 

“So what  _ is _ the message? What do you hope to achieve by covering me in paint? That I stop wearing fur? Because, like, you could’ve just  _ told _ me.” 

Louis doesn’t know how Styles supposes she would’ve gone about telling her anything, seeing as they don’t exactly run in the same circles. 

There’s a tenseness in Styles’ shoulders that seems like a crack in the perfect surface, a human quality that isn’t supposed to shine through. 

“I told you,” Louis says. “It’s not about you. It’s about the fashion industry, about brands with large impact, it’s about the media coverage. People don’t listen unless there’s something worth gossiping about. Don’t you think I’ve handed out  _ thousands  _ of flyers? Most of them end up in the bin. That’s one way, but another is to demand attention. That’s what I did.”

Styles is still frowning, like everything that leaves Louis’ mouth makes her even more confused. 

“So you’re telling me the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me was just to create buzz? Why did it have to be so violent? Why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, bring a banner or something?” 

Louis sighs.

“I’m sorry you got scared, but like, first of all maybe be happy the scariest thing that’s happened to you is someone throwing some paint at you?” Louis has apparently let go of every pretense of being polite. “And  _ again _ , do you seriously think a banner would give the cause as much attention as this? You’ve probably even written about this on your blog right? The news have talked about it, magazines have written about it. I’ve talked to loads of new people because people are interested.”

Styles looks at her, contemplative as ever. “How do you know all this?”

It’s not what Louis expects. ”Know what?”

”About creating buzz and PR. You sound like some sort of expert.” 

“I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen. I’ve been doing campaigns and collected name lists forever, this isn’t a one time thing that stops just because you people stop talking about it.” 

Styles nods for a moment but then seem to change her mind and she lets out a frustrated huff. 

”I still don’t get attacking random people. How is that fair? If you’re so into politics why don’t you like, run for office? Try to make  _ actual _ change happen?”

Louis looks at her deadpan and can’t help the smug smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“I’m doing a master’s in political science and I assure you I’ve talked to more politicians than you can even name. If you seriously think major change happens because there’s a bunch of politicians  _ wanting change _ , then I don’t know what to tell you. Politicians are forced to make changes, because  _ people  _ demand it. Because people protest, because people make the politicians uncomfortable. We didn’t exactly get women’s rights to vote because men were kind enough to give to us.”

“I know that,” Styles says defensively, throwing Louis off. “I did a class in Gender Studies at uni.” 

“Well, there you go! I think the same logic can be applied to a lot of oppressive structures, right?” She’s really trying not to sound belittling, but somehow she wants Styles to get it and see her side of things. 

“Maybe…” Styles trails off, then something as ridiculous as a dimple pops out. ”I still don’t think violence is alright.” Suddenly there’s cheek to her words and Louis is so surprised she can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes her.

“I didn’t even  _ hurt  _ you. You’re fine, aren’t you?” 

And just like that, something cracks the polished surface completely. Styles blushes and bashfully puts a curl of hair behind her ear, suddenly she looks like so much more than the cover of a glossy magazine. She looks fragile, unsure and beautifully human.

Styles eventually crosses her legs and tilts her head to the side, a careful smile makes her green eyes glint, and then Louis’ heart races for a completely different reason. Louis realises it’s impossible to get a grip of this woman who seemingly throws herself between thoughts and emotions like it’s nothing. To Louis, who is always trying her best to control whatever turmoil is happening inside her, it’s sort of fascinating to watch.

“You know what, I really like how passionate you are about this. I don’t see that very often,” Styles says and it sounds like an admission. 

“Umm, thanks.” She knows she gets worked up over things, but she’s so used to people disregarding her at first glance that she’s left a little speechless. It’s not common that someone says that to her and means it as a compliment. 

“This is a bit mad but… we could use someone like you working for the Eilene Jenkins Fund,” Styles says, her eyes sharp now, curious and focused. 

That might be the last thing Louis expects from Harry Styles. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Do you know what the fund is?” Styles asks and draws her finger through a wet spot on the glass table top. 

Louis, unfortunately, actually does. ”I’ve heard of it, they raised money for the Lily Women’s Shelter or something right?”

Styles lights up, dimples popping out in both cheeks now and Louis thinks the existence of something so pretty is utterly unfair. How is she supposed to focus with that right in front of her?

”Well I’ve been working with them for the past year and I happen to know they’re looking for someone for one of their projects, I think you’d be perfect.”

“You’re joking, right?’” Louis looks at her in disbelief. It feels like she’s fallen through a hole and ended up in the upside down. 

Curls fall over Styles’ face as she ducks down. “My family company is one of the major donors, so I’m like—”

“You want to be my  _ boss,  _ is that what you’re saying?” Louis chuckles out, because she’s both surprised and a bit impressed by the way this woman’s mind seems to work. She was just suggesting Louis had basically traumatised her and now she’s here asking to employ her. Even if Louis can’t understand it, at least the threat of getting turned in seems far away now.

“No! No, not at all, I don’t even properly  _ work  _ for them. I just… if you wanted, I’d gladly recommend you to the board.” 

“You’ve just sat here and told me I scared you half to death and now you want to hire me?”

“I like people who care about what they do, and you do, don’t you? Like you said—to create change we might need someone to make the rest a little uncomfortable.” She’s grinning now, eyes twinkling as she uses Louis’ words against her, and yeah, Louis can see how someone like her is probably used to getting what she wants.

Louis’ mind reels, overwhelmed with residue nerves, job offers, and a freckle right between Styles’ really pink lips and the dip of her left dimple.

She clears her throat. “I know those dimples probably work on most people, but honestly I don’t think it’s my kind of thing? Like, sorry but—“

“It’s a paid job that’s relevant to your degree, why  _ wouldn’t _ you try for it? If you don’t like it, then at least you’ve gained experience.”

“Charity just isn’t my kind of thing.” Not to mention— _ why on earth  _ would Styles recommended Louis to  _ anyone? _

“So what do you want to do? Throw paint at people for the rest of your life?” Styles challenges and whatever ease her smile might have provoked just a moment ago simmers out of Louis. 

“I dunno, what are you gonna do? Live off of your parents?” Louis throws back, her voice sharp. She’s getting tired of the way Styles doesn’t make sense to her and she refuses to let someone like Styles judge her. 

The tension comes back and lies thick in the air and Louis is quickly filled with a strong urge to leave, to end this weird encounter and make it into nothing but a strange memory.

Just as Louis is about to stand up, Styles clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry that was rude…” she admits, the line between her brows back again. ”But I do make I my own money, you know.” 

Yet again, bewildered by Styles’ twists and turns, Louis opens her mouth to protest, to make the point that Styles’ opportunities, whatever they may entail, _obviously_ haven’t come purley from hard work, but Styles isn’t done yet.

“That’s besides the main point, I  _ know _ ,” she says, looking down into her coffee cup. ”Just…” A deep sigh escapes her. “I guess, thanks for meeting with me. I just wanted to understand, and I… I think I do a bit more.”

Maybe it’s the way Styles’ shoulder slump with defeat, like she’s disappointed in how the meeting turned out. Maybe it’s the way she pushes a curl behind her ear and bites her bottom lip. Maybe it’s just Louis’ inability to knowingly let down women with rose-flushed cheeks. Maybe she’s just gone fucking insane when she blurts out—“You should come a meeting.” 

“A meeting?” Styles looks at her skeptically. 

“A friend of mine is working on a campaign to stop animal testing at the NUI Lab. You should come to one of our meetings.” Louis’ heart speeds up again, like it’s protesting the words flowing out of her mouth.

“Why? So you can all hate on me collectively?” Styles seems to have a knack for keeping her gaze serious while her lips twitch with a smile. 

Louis rolls her eyes, that twitch of Styles’ lips mirroring in her own without Louis’ consent. “I promise no one will care about you. You could write about on your blog? You write about makeup and stuff right?” Louis has no idea why she’s pushing for it, or why she’s acting like she knows anything about fashion blogs.

Styles clenches her jaw and raises an eyebrow, uncrossing and then crossing her legs again. “It’s a fashion, not beauty, blog.” 

There you go, Louis is obviously clueless.

“Well, I just thought maybe you’ll understand even more where I’m coming from?” 

Louis doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. Why she’s apparently hell bent on convincing this woman on joining her. But there’s something about the crack in the surface that draws Louis in. 

It’s unexpected and not at all what she was prepared for.

\---

They exchange phone numbers and later decide to meet up across the street from where the meeting is held the following Saturday. Louis wonders over the next few days if she’s made a mistake in inviting Styles. If she’d been wrong about that something in her gut telling her that the fashion blogger was, if a whirlwind of emotion and contradiction, a good person. Or maybe if she’d just been blinded by that pretty smile and convinced herself to find another excuse to see it. Styles certainly wasn’t what she expected, but maybe she needs to remind herself that they come from different worlds. That keen eyes and pretty lips don’t make someone less ignorant. 

She has also half-way convinced herself that Styles is going to bail, surely must’ve realised the meeting isn’t exactly her scene, but as she gets up from the underground she spots Styles almost immediately. 

She’s a lot more casually dressed this time, and Louis would find it endearing if it wasn’t for how it also feels slightly calculated. Like Styles is a beautiful but lethal cameleon who can make herself blend in wherever is needed. Not that expensive sneakers and the a-bit-too-perfectly-casual jean jacket will necessarily blend in with thrift shop corduroy and hemp shoes, but still. 

“Hi there,” Louis greets her and Styles looks up from her phone. Her hair is in a bun on top of her head and her face is rosy from the slight chill. 

“Hey!” Styles smiles and puts her phone back in her purse. She seems a bit jittery, like she’s nervous or excited or maybe a bit of both.

“You ready?” Louis asks, and holds back the comment about assuming Styles would pull out. She doesn’t like how this woman makes her feel unbalanced, like she has to second guess everything that wants to come out of her mouth. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Styles shrugs and for a second it looks like she’ll grab hold of Louis’ arm, but then she changes her mind. 

They cross the street, and Louis’ belly fills with nerves. She’s not sure how the crowd that usually hangs out at the café will react to her bringing Styles, as most of them have heard about the paint throwing incident by now. What if they  _ do  _ react badly and Louis brings Styles into another highly unpleasant situation? After all, that’s not the purpose. She might not know exactly what the purpose _ is _ , but Styles seemed curious enough that she hopes it will work out. 

The whole thing is a bit unnerving for sure. 

Louis opens the door to the vegan café where they usually hold their meetings and they enter the already rather busy space. It’s one of Louis’ favorite spots in the city and she feels nearly as home here as she feels at her own place. Having Styles by her side  _ here _ feels almost surreal. 

“LouLou!” Jesy comes up to them and gives Louis a big hug. “Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

Jesy is one of few people Louis hangs out with regularly outside of activist meetings, mainly because Louis didn’t have much say in it once Jesy had decided to befriend her. And that’s not because Jesy isn’t all kinds of awesome, but because Louis is the epitome of awkward and people have to force themselves into her life for her to let them in. It’s a very charming quality.

“We hung out at Niall’s two weeks ago,” Louis smiles and shakes her head fondly. 

“Yeah,  _ ages,”  _ Jesy reaffirms and then she looks curiously over Louis’ shoulder. “And who’s this?” 

Louis can tell the second recognition falls over Jesy’s face and Louis’ cheeks burn when Jesy raises an eyebrow at her in question. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Um, this… this is St- Harry,” Louis stumbles, flushing even more at the way her tongue fumbles over the name. “She’s curious about the meeting.” 

Jesy’s lips twist into a smile that looks more confused than happy. “Well, great I suppose. Welcome.”

Harry tries a polite smile and nods. “Thanks, I’m looking forward to it.” 

“We’ve got some coffee and cupcakes if you want to grab any before we start,” Jesy says before she turns back to Louis. “Good to see you, talk to you later, yeah?” And the way she looks at Louis makes it clear Louis doesn’t have much choice on the matter. 

“Yeah, talk to you later,” Louis agrees meekly and urgently wants to get Harry into a dark corner. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Jesy wades through the tables to get over to the small stage in the corner and Louis turns to Harry to see if she caught on to the weird exchange between Louis and her friend. “You alright? D’you want anything?” 

Harry appears to be a bit lost in her own mind because she tears her eyes away from the crowd to look at Louis. “No thanks, I’m fine, just had breakfast. That was… your friend? I didn’t catch the name?”

“Yeah, that’s Jesy, she’s one of the main organizers for the campaign.” 

“What’s the campaign again?” Harry asks and Louis can’t help snorting. Who goes to a political meeting without knowing the purpose of it? Especially if you’re a person who’s regularly accompanied by  _ bodyguards. _ Harry Styles, apparently.

“Stop animal testing at the NUI Lab,” Louis explains and they move away from the entrance. 

They find a spot in the corner opposite from the stage and Louis greets a few of her friends on the way over. Louis readily ignores the curious gazes thrown at the person behind her shoulder and hopes they’ll forget Harry is there sooner rather than later. She’s sure some of them have questions and it’s not like Louis actually knows what she’s doing. Louis never brings anyone new to meetings or hang outs, but for some reason chose to bring the girl who represents so much of what they’re fighting against. Why didn’t she run in the opposite direction as soon as she’d made sure she wouldn’t be in trouble any more?

“Hello everyone!” The meeting starts up with Jesy’s voice booming out over the chatter as she draws the crowd in with a joke and a quick recap of what’s happened since the last meeting, 

Louis finds that she’s a bit distracted from the get go. She can’t really relax when there are curious looks thrown their way and Harry radiates enough heat next to her to make goosebumps break out over her side. 

Jesy goes through the general idea of the campaign and who is responsible for what. They’re going to do a push online with a digital information folder, then a large group of people will cover the ground putting up posters and handing out flyers all over town. The final part will be an article written by Jesy and a few others, that will be sent to the company as well as all local papers. 

“We need to  _ make sure _ NUI won’t get away with their cruel tests,  _ everyone _ needs to know what’s going on,” Jesy states and Louis nods distractedly in agreement. 

Sometime during Jesy explaining the most effective ways to spread information online, a thermos of coffee is passed around and Louis pours a cup each for her and Harry. As she reaches over to give Harry the cup she sees her completely enraptured with what’s going on at the other side of the room. Her bottom lip is pulled in between her teeth and her eyes are sharp with concentration. Louis is equal parts humored and surprised, wondering if Harry is mostly impressed or horrified. 

The meeting lasts for about an hour and for someone who’s usually engaged and rather vocal, the hour passes in a blur for Louis. As the chatter starts up she motions to Harry that they should head towards the door. People are milling about to sign up for flyer and poster duty or to have another cup of coffee, but Louis figures that the quicker they leave, the sooner they can escape the questions she wouldn’t know how to answer. The crowd at the café might act like they’re above gossip but she knows how fast word can spread. 

After the stifling air in the small café it feels good to take a breath of fresh air. Louis looks over at Harry to find her looking right back at her and Louis forces herself not to pay attention to the prickling heat in her cheeks. 

“So!” Louis claps her hands together, because apparently she’s a jaunty dad of three. “What did you think?”

Harry laughs at her antics and scratches her neck. “It’s… it’s a lot.”

“How do you mean?” Louis takes another deep breath of air and tries to calm the way her heart is starting to race. For some reason she’s suddenly worked up, like she’s just had a shot of adrenaline. She doesn’t know if she wants to know what Harry is thinking, if the positive side she’s seen of her so far is just an illusion and Harry will show her true ignorance once and for all. 

“Hrm, um… can we walk for a bit? I think... I need to clear my head before I know the answer to that. I can walk you home if you like?” Harry asks and she does admittedly sound a bit cloud-headed. 

“It’s about a half hour walk,” Louis says and part of her wishes that will scare Harry off. That maybe it’s too long a walk and they’ll go their separate ways, so that the weird wired up feeling in Louis’ bones will finally go away.

“Sounds perfect,” Harry smiles and Louis’ heart jumps. Perfect. 

“Alright, well, this way,” Louis shuffles forward and steers Harry around with a hand at the small of her back. It probably takes all of ten horrifying seconds before Louis realizes she’s  _ still  _ touching Harry, and she quickly shoves her hands in her jacket pockets. 

They walk a minute in silence before Harry looks up at the sky. “It’s just… a lot of what your friend was talking about  _ does  _ make sense. It’s not like… I know you probably think otherwise, but it’s not like I  _ like  _ animal cruelty or anything.”

Louis looks at her, eyebrows involuntarily drawn together. “Then why would you wear a dead animal? It’s not like the fur industry raises the animals in open fields until they die of old age.”

Harry’s cheeks bloom red and she throws a bashful look in Louis’ direction. “No I… I get that. I guess I just. I guess I just didn’t think about it before?”

“And now?” Louis asks and she tries not to look too smug. The last thing she expected from throwing paint at someone was to make  _ them _ change their minds. 

“I… I really don’t understand or agree with what you did,” Harry says. “I don’t understand why it’s necessary to humiliate or be violent towards someone, but… that in there?” Harry nods back towards the direction of the café. “That’s so… I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people who are so…  _ engaged  _ in something. And it’s cool that you know about all these different ways to spread information and… yeah.”

“A lot of us have been doing activist work for years so you pick things up.”

Harry hums. “I mean, I know a lot of people who work super hard at what they do, who are really passionate about their work or whatever but… it’s like… I think when it all comes down to it, whether it’s personal success or even raising money for a charity, it’s all rather… selfish?”

She winces a little at that last word, like she’s not completely comfortable with it, and Louis studies the way the emotion plays out over her face. As if Harry uses every last muscle to express her thoughts. Louis thinks that the pictures she’s seen of Harry online could never capture the life of her. The way color dances over her cheeks and the way she purses her mouth, how she manages to convey so much with just a shrug of her shoulder. 

“Like… it’s not exactly a self-sacrifice to raise money if you’ve already got it? And yeah, it’s inspiring with people who work hard to achieve their goals but it’s also not… I don’t know. I think art is important, I think passion is important, but what if you want  _ change? _ How does getting published in  _ The Gentlewoman  _ matter to anyone but yourself? I’m not saying it’s bad, just… different from this.”

Louis has no idea what Harry just referenced but she figures she gets the idea. She bites her own cheek to think her next words over, genuinely surprised by Harry’s thoughts and finds herself wanting to encourage them. “Do you think there needs to be a ‘self-sacrifice’ to be able to create change?” 

Harry meets her eyes and the green of them spark in the midday sun. Louis tries not to get distracted. 

“You make it sound so serious,” she says, her lips wavering a little with a smile. “Maybe not…  _ sacrifice _ , but like... I’m assuming everyone in there has already got full time jobs or school? And they still do this in their free time because they believe in it. Not because it will make them look good, but because they think it’s necessary? That’s incredible.”

Louis doesn’t really know how to respond since she agrees with the baseline of Harry’s reasoning. She just doesn’t know if it’s that simple. She knows first hand how amazing it feels when you manage to make change happen, when you’re surrounded by people who believe all the same things you do, how absolutely addictive it is to be part of something bigger than yourself. 

“Yeah it’s… it can be difficult and time consuming, but it’s also really rewarding. To feel like you’re making a difference.” 

“I can only imagine. I know it’s not... the same, but when we raised money for the women’s shelter, it was such a rush.” There’s a light shining in her eyes and two spots of pink excitement on her cheeks. She seems worlds apart from cool and collected—from fashion spreads and well-planned paparazzi shots. 

Louis’ chest goes a little tight and she forces herself to smile. 

“It  _ was _ amazing, I remember everyone was talking about it at the time,” Louis admits. 

They keep talking about the meeting and Harry’s reflections from it as they get closer to Louis’ block. Even though Harry clearly comes from a different background, Louis has to admit she’s a bit impressed by Harry’s ability to analyze her own thoughts and reflect on things that are foreign to her. Louis is the first to admit she herself is struggling with seeing things from other people’s point of view, so she knows how hard it can be.

“This is it,” she says as they slow down in front of her building, and she can’t help but wonder if this is it for them as well. She’s done her really weird but ultimately good deed and showed Harry the darker side of things, what else could there be? 

She gears up to say goodbye and head upstairs for lunch, shuffling a bit awkwardly before she dares to look up and meet those curious eyes. The moment she meets them there’s that uncomfortable shift again, like Harry’s proximity will make her lose her footing. She still isn’t sure what to make of Harry or the fact that she came to the meeting. Not sure what to think about the fact that Harry seems to listen to what she has to say rather than instinctively hate her guts. 

Louis knows Harry is probably just looking at her the way normal people do when they’re having a conversation, but she can’t help but feel like she’s under scrutiny. The feeling of being a puzzle Harry can’t figure out returns tenfold. 

“Um… would you…” Harry starts and drags her fingers up over her forehead, as if to pull away her bangs before realizing her hair is already pulled up. “Would you maybe like to hang out sometime?” 

Louis’ mouth grows dry and her heart rabbits, while her brain short circuits because she has no idea why Harry would ask that. How someone like Louis could possibly be interesting or fun to be around for someone who seems to have the whole world at her feet. 

The fact that maybe Louis shouldn’t be so eager to hang out with someone she made a political statement against just a couple weeks ago, seems to fly over her head. 

“Erh, sure,” she squeezes out of her tight throat. 

Harry’s face breaks into a soft smile, her eyes still  _ looking, _ small laugh lines surrounding the edges. 

One morning in the company of this girl has got Louis so wired up she wants to lie down to rest for the next decade or so. Maybe she needs a vacation.

“Yeah, sure,” she says again, and then Harry is pulling her into a brief hug.

“Cool,” Harry says, as she pulls away. She bites her bottom lip and for three very world stilling seconds she squeezes Louis’ fingers in hers. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

And then she’s off with a small wave of those long fingers. Louis just stares after her until her phone buzzes in her pocket and she’s brought out of her thoughts. Horrified at her own inability to exist in any decent sort of way, she pulls herself up the stairs and over to her mattress in the corner before she collapses with a groan of agony. 

Why can’t people just be easy to read so Louis can move on with her life without feeling like there’s more to them than what she sees? Why does someone like Harry Styles have to be interested in what she does and in turn surprise Louis with the way her mind seems to work? Why can’t there be good guys and bad guys and why are some people so pretty your belly twist with unease at the thought of it? 

“Urrngh,” she groans into her pillow before letting her eyes fall shut.

\---

The following Monday Harry texts her about Friday night plans and Louis agrees to come over for wine and board games. She’s got a lot of studying to do in the upcoming week, but she also knows she needs time to unwind. If spending time alone with Harry Styles can be considered unwinding. 

On Wednesday night she gets a call from her best friend Niall and he’s more than a little interested in the news he’s heard. 

“What’s this about you bringing  _ Harry Styles _ to the café?” he asks and Louis damns herself. Seems like it doesn’t matter that she tried to be discreet at the café meeting. And it was probably a bad idea to ignore Jesy’s calls because obviously she’s gone to Niall for information instead.  _ Big gossips all of you. _

“She wanted to know what it was about, no big deal,” Louis mutters and shrugs her shoulder even if he can’t see her. 

“Really? No big deal? You bringing  _ fur girl _ to a meeting is ‘no big deal’?” Niall knows very well who Harry is and how they met, was there when Louis got the news about the meet up and everything, and the glee in his voice makes her cringe. 

“I can make friends you know,” she says and perhaps her defensive tone isn’t doing much for her. 

“Yeah,  _ right,  _ especially with people you’ve thrown paint at.  _ Especially  _ pretty girls you’ve thrown paint at. Classic Lou, that is.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him sound this delighted. 

He’s obviously not upset with her for fraternizing with the enemy or whatever, but she doesn’t like  _ at all  _ that he makes a point of Harry’s prettiness. Like it matters. Like Louis has even noticed! As if.

“Shut up, what does it even matter that she’s pretty?” she grunts out.

Niall wheezes out giggles and Louis thinks that making new friends is a really good idea after all. “She’s like,  _ a photo model _ , as if you haven’t noticed! And she’s just quirky enough that you probably find her charming too.” 

“How do you even know that? You haven’t met her.”

“She’s a C-list celebrity who lives in the city,  _ of course  _ I bloody know who she is.” Niall sounds affronted, as if Louis had forgotten his title as Major Gossip. “It’s so absurd you’re hanging out with her. Is she single?”

Louis’ stomach twists uncomfortably. “What does it matter? I’m pretty sure she’s got a  _ boyfriend...   _ so.”

“Oh, you made sure to look that up, did ya?” Niall sniggers. He might be actually evil.

“ _ You _ try and google Harry Styles without having to wade through five billion gossip sites,” she argues and shudders at the things she had to see before she found any useful information on the girl she assaulted. If Louis happened to catch a few headlines of “Fashion Icon Harry Styles out and about with hot summer fling Cole Summers” and “Loved up walk in the park—Harry Styles and her beau”, it wasn’t exactly  _ her  _ fault. 

“Either way, your whole thing with her is absurd,” Niall concludes. “What would you even have in common? Cutting red ribbons?” 

Louis snorts with a grim smile, but immediately feels bad. No matter how far away from reality Harry had first seemed, she can’t help but to remember the curious shine in her eyes as she asked about Louis’ perspective on things. “I heard she’s actually a really good photographer, and she’s kind of nice.” 

“Oh, and what’s ‘good photographer’ a euphemism for these days?” Niall laughs and with that Louis threatens to hang up on him. 

Old friends are overrated anyways. 

\---

It’s a good thing Louis is busy with school the rest of the week because that keeps her from thinking about hanging out with Harry… except when she gets texts from Niall and Jesy who seem to have teamed up to make this whole thing as awkward as possible.

Louis has done her best to ignore them, because she hates that they can’t just leave her alone with this. Why does it have to be a big thing that she might be sort of hanging out with Harry? Besides the fact that Harry is frequently featured on gossip sites and red carpet photo galleries, it really shouldn’t be  _ a thing.  _ And okay, maybe it is a bit weird considering how they met, but Louis is a firm believer in that people can grow and learn from their mistakes. She’s fairly sure that’s something she’s believed before now as well. 

The thing is, she’s pretty sure her friends don’t even care about Harry being famous or wearing murdered animals on her shoulders, as much as they care about Harry being  _ a pretty girl _ . It makes Louis’ chest tight with unease because she doesn’t want Harry to think she’s coming on to her; that she’s got some sort of ulterior motive for maybe sort of becoming friends with her. And it’s annoying that Niall and Jesy seem to think she can’t be friends with someone just because they’re pretty. 

The worst part is that the thought of hanging out with Harry, no matter how casually,  _ does _ make something stir in her belly, but she’d rather not think about that at all. 

\---

Harry welcomes her with a hug and a big smile, wearing flowy high waisted pants and an oversized dress shirt that’s tied in a knot above the waistline. Louis immediately averts her attention from the skin of Harry’s open neckline and the smell of flowery perfume. Harry looks like the cover of a glossy magazine and Louis tries not to feel out of place with her ripped jeans and green flannel. She buttoned it all the way up, alright. She’s  _ made an effort. _

The apartment is on the other side of the river from where Louis lives and it’s big but homey. Filled with antique furniture and a kitchen island that is bigger than all of Louis’ flat surfaces combined, it should come off as gaudy but maybe it’s the tilted ceiling that makes the whole place feel cozy.

It becomes quite clear as Harry brings her into the living room that Louis didn’t really know what to expect when Harry said “board games and wine,” but it wasn’t  _ this. _

On the living room floor, Harry has spread out a large quilt that’s covered in bowls of chocolate, chips and fruit. On a small side table she’s propped up a box of red wine and she fills their glasses almost to the brim as Louis settles down carefully. 

“You like red, right?” Harry asks, and for a moment she looks flustered. The breezy flawless woman who just welcomed Louis into her home melted into a slightly awkward girl with curls growing frizzy with heat. Louis’ belly drops at the sight. 

“Yeah sure,” she says and accepts the glass. 

Louis pictured them sitting stiffly at a dinner table drinking something nasty like coconut water, but this is… almost normal. Like, maybe weirdly cozy for two people who barely know each other, but it feels like something that Louis could do with her own friends as well. A little messy and fun.

It turns out Harry is a board game nerd, and she’s adorably offended when Louis doesn’t know the rules to Battleship, Scrabble,  _ and _ Othello. After she’s carefully explained the different games she’s stacked up next to the quilt, they pick Scrabble because at least Louis knows the basic rules. 

“How’s everything going with school?” Harry asks and Louis tells her about the upcoming assignment in her introduction course that she’s quite nervous about.

“Feels like they’re testing us a bit, cause it’s the first semester and all,” Louis explains with a shrug, knowing she’ll probably do fine but she still worries about it.

“I’m sure you’ll do great. I hated writing essays at uni, I always prefered discussions and workshops.” 

Turns out Harry spent one year doing Women’s Studies and Photography classes before she dropped out to work full-time instead. “School wasn’t really my thing, so I’m like… massively impressed you’re doing a masters. Did you do anything before going to uni?” 

Louis shakes her head. “Nah, I already knew what I wanted to do so I worked hard on getting good grades in high school. It sucked a lot because high school wasn’t… I hated it, but at least it got me where I wanted.”

She bitterly remembers how her math teacher always told her she was too stubborn for her own good and how the other kids made an effort at calling her every slur they deemed suitable. Luckily Louis managed to meet friends outside of school, not least of all Niall who found her while he was handing out animal rights flyers downtown.

As Louis goes on about how he’d lured her into coming to a meeting with his Irish accent and stupid jokes, Harry looks at Louis with intimidatingly attentive eyes and asks follow up questions on almost everything that leaves Louis’ mouth. 

For someone who spends a lot of time on her own, sprawled out over her books, this kind of attention makes Louis go slightly dizzy. She tries to ask questions back, and Harry answers them, but then she keeps nudging the focus back to Louis. Maybe that’s what happens when your private life is constantly under scrutiny, or maybe that’s just the way Harry is. Curious with just the right amount of nerve to ask questions other people might be too polite to ask. 

After a few glasses of wine and on their second round of Scrabble, Harry peers at her from above the top of her glass, eyes glimmering. 

“Do you have a girlfriend then?” 

Louis stops right in the middle of swallowing because she’s scared of choking. Her cheeks heat up as she slowly lets the wine flow down her throat, hoping she can pass off a possible blush as a consequence of the wine. 

On one hand she’s utterly relieved that Harry isn’t ignorant enough to  _ not  _ pick up on the way Louis’ very clearly exudes  _ lesbian _ , but there’s also that ugly prickle of  _ how fucking obvious am I about finding you attractive  _ at the back of her head. 

She shakes her head and takes another sip of wine to sooth the itch in her throat. “Nope.”

Harry smiles, and Louis feels the burn in her cheeks turn up another notch. Damn pretty girls and their infuriating way of getting under her skin. This isn’t supposed to be about that. This is supposed to be… well, she doesn’t exactly know what this  _ thing _ with Harry is supposed to be. Maybe a learning experience? Both of them getting a glimpse of “the other side”? Louis is fairly sure it’s not supposed to grant a blush at least. 

She takes a deep breath and tries to collect herself. 

“What about you? Eh, uh, boyfriend I mean?” Louis stumbles out very eloquently as she waves a hand in front of her. 

Biting her bottom lip, Harry ducks her head down for a moment before she shakes her head as well. “Nope.” 

Louis doesn’t want to bring up what all those gossip sites said about Harry. Maybe she and her boyfriend just broke up, or maybe it was all exaggerated to begin with. 

“Do you like being single?” Louis asks then, because apparently she likes digging her own grave instead of changing the subject. Apparently she doesn’t mind the way the flush over her cheeks travel down the expanse of her throat and makes the hair at her neck damp with sweat. It’d be better to talk about the goddamned weather.  _ Anything _ other than potential partners or non-partners. This isn’t  _ that.  _

Harry starts putting out letters on the board with no regard to the rules and Louis realizes they stopped caring about the game about a wine glass ago. 

“Don’t know really, I guess it has its perks but it’s…” Harry shrugs, her shirt falling off her sharp shoulder and Louis tries not to stare at the pale, slightly freckled skin. “I wouldn’t mind meeting someone either, it’s all about like… meeting someone you connect with, you know? Someone you can just be yourself with.”

Louis doesn’t know. She’s never had a girlfriend in her life and she has no idea what one should look for in a potential partner, though what Harry proposes  _ does _ sound nice, doesn’t it? Someone to share things with. Share your thoughts and your feelings. Knowing you’re not alone. Knowing you’re actually, truly, wanted. 

“I guess,” is what she comes up with for an answer. 

Maybe it would be nice.

\---

They part just past midnight and sometime during the night Louis’ nerves faded into something warm and fuzzy in her belly. The fresh night air makes her feel less guilty about the feeling and more like maybe it’s okay to enjoy it, at least for now. To enjoy a new friendship and spending time with a wonderful girl, even though it won’t go anywhere. Maybe Louis can finally get out of her own ass and be normal. Someone who casually strikes up friendships with girls and who doesn’t panic at the prospect of falling for them. Maybe it’s just the wine talking.

Two days later Harry’s caller ID shows up on her phone and Louis nearly chokes on her strong brewed coffee. She’s never understood why anyone would choose to call when one can simply text, but she picks up the phone with just a tinge of cold sweat under her arms. 

“Hey, it’s Harry. How are you?” Her british accent is warm and soft through the receiver and Louis only sounds slightly winded when she answers.

“I’m alright, how are you?”

“I’m good, a little tired still but um… I have a question to ask.” Louis wonders if she’s smiling.

“A question?” Louis’ lips twitch with amusement. 

“Uh huh, see I’ve gotten this invite to an advance screening of the new  _ Star Wars _ movie this Saturday and I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” 

Louis’ chest lights with instant excitement. “Advanced screening?”

“Yeah. It isn’t even like, a big event, it’s just for some people in the business, very casual,” Harry explains and that spark of excitement in Louis’ chest sinks into doubt. Right, “people in the business.” It’s probably even a red carpet thing. Paparazzi sounds like the opposite of what she considers a good Saturday night. 

“Oh it… it sounds great, but I’m not sure, it’s not—”

“You like  _ Star Wars _ , right? I’m like  _ positive  _ you do. And we can totally sneak in without saying hi to anyone, I promise,” Harry says, seeing right through her without hesitation. 

Louis thinks she doesn’t know Harry very well yet, but somehow she knows that her dimples are out and that she’s probably very sure that Louis will say yes. 

“I really don’t know if it’s my thing…” She starts again, as if she doesn’t want to prove Harry right on principle alone. 

“I mean, if you really don’t want to, that’s fine obviously. But like… I’d really love to go with you, it’ll be fun.” 

Louis’ cheeks flush, embarrassed that it seems like that’s all she was waiting for. That personal invite that feels like cotton at the bottom of her stomach. 

“If you buy me popcorn and a soda I might consider it,” Louis mumbles and tries to give it a stubborn edge. 

“Yey!” Harry shouts and Louis grins, thinking maybe it won’t be so bad. 

Louis probably should’ve guessed, but Harry is definitely a  _ talker _ and seems perfectly at ease communicating through a plastic devise. She explains more about the event and even though it makes Louis a little anxious, she eventually relaxes enough to even manage a joke or two. Almost as if she’s an adult who can carry on conversation. It’s amazing. 

Turns out when you’re a famous fashion blogger you get invited to advance screenings of blockbusters so you don’t have to watch the movie together with regular folk, and for some reason Harry thought it was a good idea to bring Louis to one of these things. 

Louis hopes she’s right. 

\---

When Louis shows up outside the shop they picked as their meeting point she has to do a double take at the person standing there shuffling on the sidewalk. If it wasn’t for the way the person stares at her the moment she rounds the corner or the dimples that implode in the person’s cheeks, Louis might’ve walked right passed her. 

Harry is wearing chelsea boots, skin tight jeans and a cropped jacket, but over her head she’s pulled up a hoodie and she’s wearing huge aviators that cover a large part of her face even though it’s already dark out. Louis can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside of her and she wants to playfully shove at Harry for being so ridiculous. She doesn’t. 

“Hi there stranger, wouldn’t happen to have seen someone named Harry around here have ya?” Louis grins and it’s so stupid but she can’t help but play along. 

“Nope, she’s being incredibly stealthy tonight, so no one has seen her,” Harry says and manages to keep a straight face for approximately two seconds before she bursts out laughing. 

Louis refrains from touching her, again, but rolls her eyes and laughs. “God, you’re such a dork.”

Harry pulls the hoodie off her head and shoves the glasses up to take its place. “Thought you didn’t want attention!” Harry shouts and Louis is pretty sure this girl doesn’t know how to not be seen. How to not draw the attention of every single person within a five-mile radius. 

“I’m sorry to say it, but I’m not sure this is how you do it,” Louis says and tries to stop grinning so widely her cheeks quiver a bit. 

“Well, we  _ could  _ just use the back entrance, but where’s the challenge in that?” Harry asks and now she’s the one that shoves carefully at Louis. Because of course to her a small shove isn’t some constipated form of flirting, but just a thing friends do. Louis should take notes, really. 

“The back entrance it is,” Louis says, shaking her head in amusement.

Harry  _ does  _ get them both inside without any fuss and it’s not until Harry has gotten them free (as if this crowd couldn’t afford it) drinks and popcorn that someone comes up to her to say hi. 

For some reason Louis expects Harry to let Louis hover in the background as she goes around dealing out hugs to a group of people who all look like they’re named after exotic fruits. Of course, as has become a reoccuring event by now, Harry does the opposite of what Louis expects. 

Harry introduces Louis to every single person of the group and it only takes two handshakes before Louis has forgotten everyone’s names. She swears she’s not usually a social catastrophe, but just being around Harry seems to make her world tilt on its axis. Everyone is nice enough even if she gets a few curious looks that Harry seems rather unbothered by.

They hang out with the group that Louis eventually understand as some old colleagues of Harry’s, but as it’s time to make it into the theatre Harry guides them a few rows away from the group. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Harry whispers. “Didn’t mean to drag you into anything, just haven’t seen some of them for a while.”

“It’s alright,” Louis waves her hand dismissively. “As long as you’re not like… uncomfortable being seen with me.” The words are out of her mouth before she’s even contemplated what she means. 

Harry’s eyebrows draw together. “Why would I be?”

Louis’ cheeks heat a little but she shrugs it off. “I dunno, I  _ did _ throw paint all over you that one time, I’m not sure what your friends think about that.”

Harry snorts at her and smiles. “Well, since you weren’t the one looking like a drowned rat on every tabloid, I’m sure they don’t recognize you.” 

The easy way Harry comments on it makes something in Louis twist with guilt for some reason. “Hey, I’m… I  _ am  _ sorry about that, it wasn’t…” She doesn’t even know what to say, she doesn’t think she did the wrong thing, but at the same time she never meant to cause Harry any harm, not really. 

“It’s alright,” Harry says as she sinks back into the chair, her arm leaning against Louis’ on the armrest. “It was all about the message right, not about me as a person?” 

She’s not looking at Louis, but Louis can still see the teasing glint in her eyes. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“See, I’m learning!” Harry smiles and as the lights go out Louis thinks about how maybe she’s learning something too, she’s just not sure what yet.

\---

In the following couple of weeks, Louis finds herself walking through streets filled with green juice stands and vintage stores around Harry’s block more times than she considers reasonable. For some reason, Harry seems to have found a friend in her, and she can’t help but feeling oddly proud about it. 

Harry, with her camera strapped around her neck, always shows Louis what she snapped when they get back after a walk. “Nothing inspires me more than what I’m able to catch through the lens. Just looking through the camera roll and seeing new things, people I didn’t pay attention to before or a flash of color I hadn’t noticed.” Louis isn’t sure she gets it, but the way Harry lights up with each word makes her listen intently. One day Harry shows her a spread from a heavy fashion magazine, and Louis’ eye flicker over the contrasting colors and dramatic shadows until she catches Harry’s name at the bottom of the page. She realises Harry might be kind of a big deal. 

Harry who loves red wine and any and all food containing cheese, so they cook their way through pasta, risotto, and potato gratin. Louis can’t say she minds. 

Harry who laughs so loudly and honkingly that Louis always starts laughing as well, and who wipes her laugh induced tears away with her fingers until there’s streaks of mascara all over her cheeks. 

Harry who remembers what Louis is working on at school and asks her questions that other people would be too proud to ask, but that ultimately mean they both learn something from the discussions it sets off. 

They hang out at Louis’ small studio apartment too, especially when Louis has to study a lot and doesn’t want to bring her books all over town. Harry doesn’t seem to mind though, and always curls up on Louis’ shitty couch and turns on the TV like she’s at home. It does awful fluttery things to Louis’ stomach and sometimes she has to excuse herself to go breathe a bit in the bathroom. Louis tries not to make it into a big deal.

One night they decide to go out for drinks, both of them tired from work and school, but too stressed to be able to relax properly at home. They decide on a casual club not too far from Louis’ place and they order drinks, and a complimentary bowl of peanuts, at the bar before making their way over to a booth. 

Harry’s wearing some sort of pink jumpsuit that Louis’ wouldn’t even know how to get in or out of, but paired with pointy black high heels she looks as relaxed as ever. Louis has pulled out all stops with her black slacks and a clean t-shirt with rolled up sleeves. Really truly impressive. 

“It wasn’t until I was about nine that things started getting mad. Like, before that we were just a regular northern family and my parents were working all the time so I spent a lot of time at my grams’. Then it was like—at least from my perspective you know, since I was a kid—‘We’re moving to the States and you’re gonna go to private school and look at this fancy flat we’re buying!’ and yeah, it was a big change, but… I mean, I understand it seems nuts to other people, but to me it’s just my life you know? Like… I can’t really imagine it being another way?” Harry talks in a slow drawl and Louis smiles at the way her hands swivel in front of her as she talks. 

“Yeah that’s… it must’ve been a lot. Do you ever miss it? England?” Louis asks and grabs a couple peanuts. 

“Yeah, I mean... maybe not like I want to move back, the city is my home, but I go back a lot.  _ Love  _ London.” She looks a little dreamy as she talks and Louis tries to picture her in a small english village with red brick houses and cows on open fields. For some reason it’s not that hard to picture it even in her pink outfit. “You grew up in the city right?”

Louis nods. “Yup, how can you tell?” She makes a face like it’s obvious. She’s always been a city kid, taking the subway to school on her own and navigating the endless streets. 

“It’s something in the way you move through the city, like it’s yours,” Harry says and Louis gawks at her.

“I don’t do that?” she squeaks. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Harry just laughs. “It’s nothing bad, just, like you’re confident!”

Louis thinks about how often she feels like the most awkward person alive, not like someone who “moves with confidence” or whatever. “I’m just- I just know where I’m going I guess.” 

For some reason that makes Harry laugh even more. 

As the evening progresses they share a plate of nachos and order more drinks. Harry is absolutely delightful after three margaritas, her hair for some reason getting fluffier with each drink, and the color in her cheeks rising. She leans into Louis’ side and her fingers keep brushing against Louis as she talks.

Louis knows she’s being careless with her own sanity. Knows it would be better for her to forget everything and all about Harry Styles, but she’s helplessly drawn to her.

When Harry asks her to dance she sets the limit though.

“Pretty please,” Harry carefully turns Louis’ hand palm up on the table and traces a long ring-adorned finger along the Fate Line. Louis shivers with the gentle touch and steels herself not to pull away. 

“It’s not really my thing,” she says, relieving herself of the fate of seeing Harry dance up close _ ,  _ but managing to hold her hand still as Harry thumbs over the thrumming pulse at her wrist. 

“But it’s fun!” Harry’s exuberance contrasts with the slow drag of her fingers and Louis gets light-headed with it.

“Sorry, feel free to go dance on your own though, I’m sure there’s lots of people to dance with.” Louis does her best to sound encouraging, but instead cringes at how  _ not _ enthusiastic she sounds about the idea. She slowly pulls her hand away and stares down at the table, waiting for Harry’s warmth to leave her side.

When nothing but silence meets her, she looks up to see Harry pouting at her as she leans her cheek in her hand, elbow propped up on the table. 

“Never mind then,” she sighs, but then a smile spreads over her face. “So what kind of music are you into? Wait! Let me guess. Is it something grunge-y? Or is that too lame for you?”

Louis takes a shaky breath, relieved at the change of subject, and grins at Harry. “I don’t think Hayley Kiyoko counts as grunge, but sure.”

\--- 

Louis feels like she’s floating over the sidewalk as she makes her way through the Friday crowd. Her assignment is finally signed, sealed, delivered and she feels about a thousand times lighter. She has no idea what her professor will make of her analysis, but for now she’s decided to let it go. Harry and sparkling wine is waiting for her and she can’t come up with any way she’d rather celebrate than in that company. She’s giddy and her whole body is thrumming with energy, ready to throw herself at Harry in a celebratory hug just  _ because _ . 

That is until Harry opens the door in a short black skirt and a sheer leopard blouse that’s unbuttoned down past her black lacy bralette. Her smooth legs look endless and the tips of her adorably wonky toes are painted dark red. Louis’ mouth goes a little dry and she freezes with her hand bracing against the doorframe. 

“Hey you!” Harry smiles and pulls her into a hug. She’s warm. She’s warm and tall and Louis feels like she’s being swallowed up in Harry’s perfume and that energy that seems to be constantly radiating off of her. 

“Hi,” Louis croaks out with her nose pressed into soft curls. Her hands hover nervously over the back of Harry’s blouse because she feels like she can’t touch Harry while she’s wearing that without like,  _ touching her,  _ and that whole concept makes her fingers tremble. Harry just wants to give her a friendly hug and Louis’ palms are sweating. 

“You’re so amazing. You should be so proud.” Harry pulls away from her and steps to the side to let her in. Her green eyes are glimmering in the softly lit hallway and her dimples are already impossibly deep. Louis hasn’t even pulled her jacket off yet for god’s sake. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to deal with this. All she wanted was some bubbly and a slap on the back. Truthfully.

Harry moves into the kitchen and Louis trails after her, trying to shake away the tremble in her hands. She doesn’t know why she’s like this. By now she’s met Harry more times than she can count on her fingers. They’ve spent hours lounging around in sweatpants and eating take out from greasy containers. She’s made Harry laugh her honking laugh so many time she should get a reward for it, and yet here she is, suddenly shaken to the core. She refuses to believe it’s only the soft dip of Harry’s cleavage that does it. She probably just needs a celebratory drink. 

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted for tonight, but I went for pizza? Found this wicked recipe for sourdough crust that I wanted to try out. That alright?” Harry moves through the kitchen with ease, showing Louis the dough she’s already prepared on a baking sheet. 

“Sounds great,” Louis says and tries to ignore the way her heart burns a little. Why does Harry have to be so perfectly lovely? Why does she make Louis feel so special and  _ seen _ , when all Louis can offer are lame comebacks and political rants?

With a deep sigh Louis determindelty walks over to Harry by the counter, knows she needs to get out of her own head and just enjoy the evening. 

“What do you propose as toppings to go with the posh crust then?” Louis sniggers and pokes an elbow at Harry’s side. 

Harry rolls her eyes and reaches over to grab the tomato sauce she apparently  _ also _ prepared. 

“Well, I made a  _ plain  _ tomato sauce since you can’t handle heat,” (she gets another elbow in the side for that) “and then I figured we could do mushrooms and cheese, maybe spinach?”

Louis’ belly actually grumbles. “Guess I approve,” she laughs. 

They’re huddled close as they put together the toppings, Louis finally able to focus on something other than Harry’s… distracting existence. Once they’ve put the pizza in the oven Harry pours them a glass of sparkling wine each and hands Louis one as she raises the other. 

“Cheers to the most brilliant person  _ ever  _ and to finishing school work on time!” 

“ _ Cheers _ ,” Louis says, imitating Harry’s accent and clinking their glasses together. 

The wine is on the right side of dry and the bubbles fizzle down Louis’ throat. Just one sip and she can feel the prickles of heat over her cheeks. Her eyes fall shut for a moment to just enjoy it, to let the taste sit on her tongue as she relaxes against the kitchen island. She made it, she finished her assignment and now she can enjoy a full evening with Harry.

“This is really good,” she says and when she opens her eyes Harry is right  _ there. _ All she can see is Harry’s soft frizzy curls, those curious green eyes and that world shattering freckle right at the corner of Harry’s raspberry-pink lips. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Harry says, her voice suddenly low and raspy like that one time they met up before breakfast and Harry hadn’t had her morning coffee yet. “It’s French.” 

Louis snorts and her eyes flicker down to where her thumb is wiping against the condensation on the glass. Her fingers are cold and her heart throwing itself against her ribcage. She tries to come up with something to say, to tease Harry about her snobby wine selection or maybe ask what movie they should watch later, but then there’s long fingers tracing up her cheek and her eyes flicker up to meet emerald green. 

Harry is putting a wisp of Louis’ short hair behind her ear and Louis has to flex her thighs as to not recoil, to not pull away at the innocent touch. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Harry whispers and her breath feels like a caress over Louis’ cheekbone. 

Suddenly there’s no air left to breathe, no place for her to go, because Harry is leaning forward, her lashes fluttering closed and Louis’ chest explodes. No. Nono _ no. _

Before she can even think, she pushes away from the counter, her hands shaking as she puts down the glass, her ears are soaring with a deafening buzz. 

“I’m- I- I have to go,” she stutters, her tongue getting tied over each vowel. She nearly misses the look of wide-eyed shock on Harry’s face because then she’s out in the hallway, through the door and down the stairs. Her chest grows tighter with each step she skips and it’s not until she pushes out from the heavy entrance door that she takes a deep breath, allowing the cold air to fill her lungs. She scrambles along the sidewalk, accidently knocking into people along the way but barely noticing. 

When she gets to the small park a couple of blocks away from Harry’s apartment, she barely knows how she made it over the busy street, but she sinks down on a park bench and heaves another few breaths into her desperate lungs. 

“Fuck,” she punches out of her throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .” 

Her arms curl over her stomach as the pain sets in, as tears well up in her eyes and prickles of humiliation dance across her skin. “Fuck.”

She can’t believe how stupid she is. How fucking reckless she’s been with her own heart. Even though she knew all along that Harry was bad news. That Harry was the kind of girl that could easily make her way over Louis’ carefully structured walls and nestle herself inside just where Louis least wants her. Where Louis  _ can’t  _ have her. Where Louis, for almost a decade, has made sure no girl could ever throw anchor because it’s too risky. Too painful, when she knows the consequences of such naive hope and want. 

Sinking back against the bench, she wipes tears from her cheeks and looks up at the darkening sky. For some reason she thought Harry would be different. That even though Louis has probably been so embarrassingly fucking obvious in the way she can’t help looking, can’t help trembling at the touch of soft freckled skin, Harry would just let her be. Let her be embarrassing and awkward with her stupid crush and Harry would not make it into a big deal. Would shrug and maybe smile a little, maybe be a little flattered, because that’s just  _ who she is _ , but not  _ this. _

Never did she think Harry would be one of those girls who take advantage. Who are so wrapped up in their own heads, that they don’t understand that a silly crush maybe isn’t just a silly crush but something that runs deeper. That is pulling at strings closely weaved together with the core of the other person. That a kiss isn’t just something  _ fun _ that girls can do because it doesn’t matter anyways, but that means absolutely everything to the girl they’re smiling at with dimpled cheeks. 

Louis’ clenches her jaw, something like anger turning to a boil inside her and blends together with the rise of disappointment behind her breastbone. She thought Harry understood. Harry never made her answer intimate questions about her sex life or asked which man she’d date  _ if she had to. _ Harry never joked about her clothing style or asked whether or not she’d ever tried it with a guy before. 

She thought Harry knew that just because she’s so mortifyingly obvious with her want, that it isn’t a free-for-all deal. But apparently she was wrong. Maybe she’s been wrong about a lot of things. Maybe she’s wanted so badly for Harry to fill up the space next to her with her rumbling laughter and curious thoughts, that she let herself get blinded. Maybe Harry is just like those magazines say—looking for excitement at every turn. Maybe a wild adventure with a  _ girl _ would be just another way to sell tabloids and keep people’s interest peaked. 

“Fuck.” 

She can’t make sense of it. Can’t believe her own morbid thoughts, because just a few minutes ago Harry made her sourdough pizza and looked at her like she was actually proud. 

A dog runs past her with their owner trailing behind, and for some reason that’s when she remembers her bag. Thrown carelessly by Harry’s door because she never would've pictured running out of her apartment only a few minutes later. 

“Fuck.” 

Sniffling a little, she pulls her jacket tighter over her chest. She just wants to go home, but her keys are in that bag and with heat burning her neck she thinks that maybe so is her dignity. Louis knows she didn’t do anything wrong. That she never agreed to be Harry’s wild adventure, and she knows she shouldn’t have run. That’s not the adult thing to do, is it? Harry probably thinks she’s a child for running out on her like that and Louis whines into the palm of her hands. 

For someone who’s made it an olympic sport to suppress emotion, she sure is dramatic. 

She knows she has to go back there and face this like an adult. She has to tell Harry she’s not interested in being a fling to someone who will end up marrying some trust fund douchebag in his thirties within a year or two.  She needs to stand up for herself and not be ashamed of her own feelings.  _ Knowing _ that her own feelings are okay and nothing to be made fun of. She has no idea how, but she gets up from the bench and makes her way over to the street light.

\---

She takes the elevator this time. Not skipping steps to hurry up, but willingly waits for the floor sign to tick down. The anger seems to have simmered down and what’s left is mostly the feeling of a heavy smelly ball of embarrassment and sadness. She wishes she could’ve been more honest with herself. Could’ve been a little less obvious and maybe not make Harry think she’s up for a friendly snog when all she really wants is Harry’s first smile of each morning pressed against a pillowcase. 

Her fingers are stiff with cold as she pushes the door bell and with a deep breath she steels herself for what’s to come. She wonders if Harry will pity her or try to laugh it off. If Harry will be angry because she ran off, or if she’ll act indifferent towards it all. She broadens her stance and puts her hands in her jacket pockets. 

The door opens slowly and before she’s had time to decide what her first words will be, the sight before her chokes the words down her throat. 

Harry looks at her with glassy eyes, her whole face splotchy red and her hair tied up into a messy knot on top of her head. Every feeling of anger or want of justification melts away in Louis and she nearly stumbles forward, her hands hovering in the air.

“What happened?” she asks, eyes fluttering over Harry’s features trying to make sense of what’s going on. What happened since she left this place not even half an hour ago? Did Harry get a call with some bad news? Maybe she hurt herself on a kitchen knife? 

Harry lets out a small hiccup, somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she turns away to head into the apartment. Louis follows, heart now stuck in her throat and worry wobbling through her mind. 

“H?” She tries again, can’t help but hover by Harry’s side as she sits down in the living room armchair, curling in on herself with her arms crossed over her chest. “Wha-what happened, what’s going on?”

Harry looks up at her with what looks like disbelief. “What happened?” She asks and her voice is thick with tears. Louis has to swallow against the lump building in her throat. “I… I tried to kiss the girl I’m absolutely  _ mad _ for, and she ran away like I have the plague. What do you think happened?” 

Tears well up in Harry’s eyes all over again and she wipes at them with a knuckle. The buzzing noise is back in Louis’ ears and she just stares. At this impossible woman who seems to hold the whole world in the palm of her hand, and Louis tries to make sense of her words. Tries to make sense of how even when she’s swollen red and has streaks of makeup down her cheeks, she’s the most breathtaking thing Louis has ever seen. How to make sense of the words that just left too pink lips. 

“What?” she whispers because that seems to be all she can manage for now. 

“God, I’m so embarrassed,” Harry groans and covers her face with the palms of her hands. Her chin wobbles as she looks up at Louis between her fingers. “I’m  _ so _ sorry, I didn’t mean- I thought- god, I’m so…” She stops herself with a shaky breath and Louis just falls. Her knees hitting the floor harshly as she desperately grabs hold of Harry’s hands to stop her from covering her face again. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for; I’m such a fucking idiot,” she rambles out, her heart breaking and mending itself at the same time. 

“I just. I thought you… I thought you  _ knew _ , I thought I couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be any more obvious and that maybe you were just shy, maybe you just—” a long ragged breath escapes her. “But how fucking conceited am I? Why would I assume you even want me in the first place? God, I’m so sorry, so so—”

Louis’ whole body is in uproar. Her chest expanding, her heart deconstructing, her blood rushing like a flood through her veins. Harry really likes her. Right? That’s what she means?  _ Right? _

“Hey wait,” Louis interrupts, pushing the pads of her thumbs against Harry’s knobbly knuckles. “Please, just wait.”

Harry falls silent, looks at her with round doe eyes and Louis’ skin tingles. 

The way it always does when Harry’s attention is solely hers. 

“You… you- what do you mean, you’re… like, do you mean you…” Louis can’t make herself say it, even now when Harry looks so scared and defeated, she doesn’t dare to hope. 

For some reason Louis’ words, or maybe what must be a halfway-to-terrified look in her eyes, encourages Harry to sit up a little, leaning closer to Louis and grasping her hands in hers properly.

“I mean I’m bloody in love with you,” Harry whispers and Louis lets the words wash over her. Pinpricks of heat travel over her scalp and down her neck, her eyes falling closed. 

Could it really be so? Can something like this happen to someone like her? Is it possible for tender declarations of love outside the dark corners of Louis’ mind? Where she only ventures late at night, cuddled up underneath her blanket and with sleep knocking on her door. Could it?

“Lou,” Harry’s raspy voice brings her out of her thoughts. “Please say something.”

Louis swallows and forces her eyes to open. She doesn’t dare to look up just yet. “How though?”

Harry actually chuckles at that, a warm but short sound. “What do you mean ‘how’? It just kinda happened.”

But it makes no sense. Louis looks up at her now, on her knees and begging for things to make sense. “You’re like… perfect, so perfect, and I’m just. I’m just. This.” 

Harry bites her bottom lip, her eyes soft and maybe a bit sad. “I don’t feel perfect, don’t you get that? When I look at you I see this impossibly smart, compassionate, bloody  _ fire _ of a person, and I feel like the most ordinary, pathetic thing, yeah?” Her fingers untangle from Louis’ and she drags her knuckles down Louis’ cheek. 

Louis’ eyebrows draw together. “You’re not pathetic, what—”

“I  _ just  _ sat here crying into a bottle of sparkling wine, I’d say I’m pretty pathetic,” Harry laughs self deprecatingly and Louis’ belly flutters. 

“No,” she says softly. “Perfect.”

Harry rearranges herself in the seat, sitting cross legged and leaning forward even closer to where Louis is perched in front of her. “Well, you’re perfect to me.” 

Her breath caught in her throat, Louis just stares at Harry, at her smudged makeup, sharp eyebrows, the kindness in her eyes. She doesn’t know what to say. She’s scared she’ll be too much, too bold, doesn’t know how to admit to feelings without crossing lines. She’s never done this before. 

“So…What do you think about that? That I’m in love with you?” Harry’s cheeks blossom red and Louis loves her. 

“It’s brilliant,” Louis rasps out, feeling like they’re the first words to ever leave her mouth. “I’m.” Her throat closes up around the next few words but she forces them out at the same time as she realises just how true they are. “I’m so in love with you.” 

Like she’s seen so many time before, Harry’s face seemingly  _ blooms _ , this time brighter than ever. “Yeah?” 

Louis nods. Of course she is. How could she not?

“Please kiss me.” 

Louis does. 

She rises up on her knees slowly, her hands sliding up to hold Harry’s neck, fingers scratching carefully into her tied up hair. Harry’s eyes flicker all over her face, waiting and watching. Louis leans forward carefully. 

It’s the first time Louis kisses lips that she loves. The first time she gets to feel the surge of emotion that comes with it, that isn’t arousal or adrenaline, but a thousand butterflies coming to life inside her skin. Erupting over the surface and sending shivers down her spine. 

Louis is in love. In love with Harry. In love with her soft lips and the small whimper that escapes them. In love with finally letting herself let go. In love with love and with kisses. 

With Harry and the way she pulls Louis in. 

\---

After long presses of thin lips on pillowy pink, they pull away to catch their breaths. Foreheads leaned together and eyelashes brushing against their cheeks. Harry smells like salt and flowery sugar, and Louis lets her scent fill every last cell of her body. Wants to make it part of her and live off of it. 

“Can we- god, this is embarrassing,” Harry chuckles a little. “I just… ever since our game night, I’ve been dreaming about kissing you on that bloody quilt. Would it be alright if we… you know.” She shrugs her head in the direction of the empty spot on the floor where they just a few weeks ago played Scrabble and Harry asked Louis if she had a girlfriend. When Harry asked Louis that, possibly because she wanted to kiss her. It feels like eons ago. 

“Of course,” Louis says, not recognizing her own voice it’s so airy. 

With a final peck Harry pulls away, untangles her long limbs from the armchair and heads over to fetch the quilt, unfolding it over the floor. Louis doesn’t think to move before Harry is reaching her hand out, silently telling Louis to come to her. 

They settle down on the soft quilt, lying down on their sides facing each other. Louis rests her head on her bicep and waits with bated breath for what’s to come next. She doesn’t yet feel like she can take control. 

Harry’s face is still a little swollen from crying, but she looks so real and devastating like this, open and pouring love. She’s so beautiful Louis wants to kiss every inch of her face. Taste her salt and her sweetness. Wants all of her. 

“Why did you run away?” Harry asks, her hand finding Louis’ on the floor between them, curling their fingers together again. 

Louis’ heart speeds up, doesn’t want to tear herself apart again. She’s so scared of scaring Harry away, of losing this before she’s even gotten her taste properly on her tongue. 

“I didn’t think you were really into me. I’m sorry.” It’s the truth, if not the entirety of it. 

Harry’s eyes are wide, her lips wobbling with a smile. “But  _ how?  _ I’ve been all over you for  _ weeks! _ Like? Is it normal for you to have girls falling over their own feet to woo you? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised but…” She ends with a shrug and Louis laughs and shakes her head.

“It’s really not. I’m… please don’t hate me, but… I thought you… I just assumed you were…” Her cheeks heat up in shame, her own ignorance getting to her in large waves. 

“Straight?” Harry asks and the smile is gone from her face, disappointment there instead, and Louis wants to sink through the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s so fucking stupid, I just… I saw some stuff when I was trying to find out who you were and then I just… I’m really sorry, it’s so ignorant of me.” 

“You’d think someone as clever as you would know not to trust gossip, yeah?” Harry says and somehow she manages not sound accusatory, but rather teasing. Louis dares to meet her eyes even though her cheeks still burn.

“I’m sorry.”

Harry leans forward to place a kiss on her warm cheek. “Haven’t done your research properly, love, or you would’ve found I’ve had girlfriends.” 

Yet again, Harry manages to surprise her. “You have? You’re like, out?”

“Being out is a fickle thing when people really want you to be straight,” Harry says, a muscle in her jaw flexing.

“How do you mean?” Louis so desperately wants to know. Wants to know all the pieces of Harry she’s been missing so far. That she so stupidly has glossed over. 

“I met my first girlfriend in high school and no one really took that seriously, like… I was in love for the first time and everyone just made it into a joke like we were together to get blokes hot at parties or something.”

“That’s gross,” Louis says, wrinkling her nose in sympathy.

Harry smiles. “Yeah, you tell me… Then I met my second girlfriend in college and we were gonna move in together and everything. She even met my mum and dad so… yeah. You’d think that’d make people go  _ ‘oh’  _ right? But then I… when I was single again I was really lost for a couple years. Didn’t know what I wanted or anything and I dated a lot. I was just sad and angry after the break up and… well, it seems like after a couple of years people had just sort of, forgotten I’m queer? Like, a few pictures of me kissing a guy, erases everything that’s happened before?”

“I’m sorry, that really sucks.” Louis tries not to let guilt swallow her up, knowing how she’s probably done the same thing to others in the past. Has done the same thing to Harry. 

“I’ve been focusing on my work for the past few years and not really dated. Obviously I know people write about me and my friends sometimes, but it’s just easier to let them assume. Not make a thing of it.” 

Louis can’t imagine that sort of scrutiny. People creating stories about you with no regard to your feelings or thoughts. 

“But your friends know? Or like, your parents?” She doesn’t mean to prod, just wants to understand Harry’s situation, wants to avoid making an ass out of herself again. 

“My friends don’t really care, they know I focus on my job so they don’t push it. My parents…” She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Of course they  _ know _ , but I also think they just assume I’ll end up with a guy anyways. Like… it’s alright to do whatever when you’re young, but then I’m expected to like settle down eventually. It’s not like they ever mention a future daughter-in-law.” 

“That’s so weird, why are people so weird?” Louis thinks about her own mom and how she’s known about Louis being gay since forever. How she could tell what had happened without Louis having to even say anything that day when she came home with tears running down her face. 

“They want grandkids, and you know, I’m turning 28 next year—practically ancient!” Another roll of her eyes. 

“You’re not ancient, jesus, are they stuck in the 50s? And like, if you want kids you can still…” Okay now she needs to shut the fuck up because her cheeks have decided to melt into lava.

“I know, it’s just. Whatever. But listen…  _ I  _ know I’m very much into girls though, so you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Louis leans closer, puts her head against Harry’s forehead. “I get that now, I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid.” 

“I’ve literally been trying to date you since I realised half-way through game night that I’d love to kiss you. You’re ridiculous.” Harry smiles and pushes her nose against Louis’,  _ nuzzling  _ her, and Louis’ stomach flutters something awful.

“I  _ am _ , but you could’ve just asked? It’s not like I would’ve said no?” She dares to put her hand at Harry’s side, fingers feeling the warm skin of her ribcage, only that thin layer of fabric between them. 

“Maybe I’m a little ridiculous too, just a little,” Harry smiles and then she’s kissing her again. 

This time Louis has grown a little courage. Wants so badly to give Harry all that she possibly can, show her how sorry she is, how much she wants this even if it scares her half to death. She rises up on her elbow, letting the hand of that arm nestle itself against the nape of Harry’s neck. With her other hand she gently pushes at Harry’s side so she lies back. Harry’s arms come up to pull her close. 

Their lips move slowly at first, feeling each other out. When another small whimper escapes Harry, Louis can’t help but try to catch it with the tip of her tongue. And Harry lets her. So easily she slides into Harry’s mouth, so slick it’s making her dizzy. The thought of wanting to be devoured by that hot slickness enters Louis’ mind and she has to pull her crotch away from Harry’s side to ease the need to push even closer. After only a few slow minutes of salty sweet spit and fingers burning through see through fabric, Louis is throbbing. Her thighs flex as she holds back, her skin electric where Harry’s fingers grace against her in the gap between her jeans and shirt. And Harry she’s… she’s pulsing too. Louis doesn’t know it from touching the swell of her, but from the sweat dampening the curls at her temples and the way those whimpers don’t seem to stop. When she pulls away to catch her breath she sees it her eyes. Louis feels like she might drown in it, in the desperation and in the way Harry answers it so clearly. It would be so easy to do it too, to give in and push closer, but her stomach drops at the thought. 

Louis closes her eyes tightly for a moment to convince herself it’s alright to pull back from the edge, that the edge will still be there, later, for her to enthusiastically throw herself over. Just. Not now. 

Harry seems to feel the same, or maybe she just reads it on Louis’ face, because she gives Louis another lingering kiss on the lips and then she takes her cheek in the palm of her hand. 

“Let’s just lie here for a bit, maybe? Can I hold you?”

Tears burn in Louis’ eyes, the utter relief and disbelief that Harry is asking her for the thing she wants the most. 

\---

The next few days Louis lives in a constant state of confusion. It’s like her whole body is wired a certain way and suddenly her heart and mind has decided to rewire the whole foundation of who she is. Every time Harry calls her, there’s a thrill through her whole body, like it’s surprised she hadn’t made it all up after all. Every time they meet up there’s a split second of fear that Harry will have changed her mind before Harry envelops her in her long arms. It feels surreal to sit in class or go grocery shopping because it feels like there’s a huge sign above her head blinking obnoxiously with the words “I’M IN LOVE WITH HARRY STYLES” and when people treat her just like they normally do—it feels off. 

Louis is making her way from the last lecture of the day, head filled with the relation between emotions and rationality and how she’ll see Harry later that night but also tries to remember if Harry had anything scheduled this afternoon. 

As she makes her way over the school grounds she hears a few girls whispering to each other and any other day she’d just ignore them but now her ears expertly picks up “look Harry Styles, did you hear…” before the girls are out of earshot. 

Louis’ cheeks flame in an instant, her heart racing in her chest, a silly smile spreading on its own volition over her whole face. 

And that’s before she _sees_ _her._

Harry is sitting on a bench right by the walking path, long legs wrapped in flared jeans, high heeled ankle boots on her feet, pointy black sunglasses and a fluffy brown jacket to top it off. She looks like someone from a movie or a fashion ad, hell she basically  _ is _ , and Louis is once again floored by how surreal it all is. Louis doesn’t care that people know who Harry is, but the fact that Harry seems so unreachable, so otherworldly, terrifies her. 

That is until Harry catches sight of her and her face splits into the widest, silliest grin Louis has ever seen. Then Louis is floored for other reasons entirely. 

“Hiiii,” Harry says, hopping up from the bench and hurrying up to Louis with flushed cheeks. 

“Hey,” Louis chokes out, still surprised, as Harry wraps her up in a hug. 

“Is it alright I just show up like this?” Harry asks, wrinkling her nose adorably as she pulls away to look into Louis’ eyes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I just. I couldn’t really wait to see you.” 

“You’re not, just. I didn’t…” Louis is suddenly overwhelmed, throat growing thick for no good reason and Harry’s happy face falls into a worried one, her hand coming up to cup Louis’ cheek. 

“Hey what’s… is everything okay? Was this a bad idea, I—” 

Louis shakes her head. “No, god you’re- I’m just being silly.” She cracks a smile, placing her hand on top of Harry’s on her cheek. “You came here just for me?” 

Harry looks at her like she can’t figure out if she heard correctly. “Of… course I did, why else would I…?” 

“I don’t know,” Louis rolls her eyes at herself, trying to stop her eyes from burning. “I’m not really used to surprise visits.” 

“Am I being annoying? Like. Tell me if I’m being too much, please,” Harry bites her bottom lip, a strange beautiful mixture of sheepish and teasing. 

“You’re not annoying, I was literally just about to text you to see if you wanted to meet up earlier so. God, you’re…” Louis leans up to kiss her, short but insistent. “I missed you.” 

Harry’s smile is face splitting from the moment their lips part and she pushes her sun glasses up so Louis is treated with the gorgeous glint in her eyes. 

“Good, and I brought muffins! You hungry?” Harry goes back to the bench where she, apparently, left a bag of muffins and raises it in the air. 

“Could go for a muffin, yeah,” Louis grins back at her. 

Who knew muffins could make a person delirious with happiness. 

\---

Being with Harry like this is the best thing Louis has ever experienced. The way she touches Louis is absolutely addictive and in just over a week of dating, Louis has come to crave it. She’s been close to people before, Niall always hugs her a lot, and she’s had sex with girls that are sweet and lovely, but this is just. Something else. Like their points of gravity have shifted, steered onto a new course and now orbiting each other with a massive force of attraction. 

Harry turns out to be a  _ very _ tactile person once she feels comfortable, and Louis goes a little mad with the brush of fingers at the nape of her neck, toes tickling against her thigh when they’re curled up on the couch, and lips brushing lightly against her collarbone. Louis tries to keep up. Tries to learn that it’s okay to give in to the urge to touch, that it’s wanted, that it’s encouraged. She wants to touch. Wants to drag her fingers through Harry’s curls, to thumb at her freckles, breathe against her shoulder. 

So she does, it only takes a bit of courage. 

With every touch, the stirring thought at the back of her head prods a little more insistently.  _ You can trust her. You can tell her. She deserves to know. Or. Either way, you deserve to tell her.  _

It’s a Tuesday night after the end credits have started rolling on their movie night and they lie together on the couch. Neither of them wanting to move away from the other. That’s when Louis’ words start welling up in her throat, pushing their way out of her mouth and into the air between them. Cuddled up close, noses nearly brushing, ankles entwined. 

“There’s another reason I didn’t… that being with you scares me.”

Her heartbeat is a heavy dull thud in her ears, cold sweat at the nape of her neck making her shiver. 

Harry brushes the pads of her fingers right there, warming up the clammy cold skin. 

“Okay,” she says, not even a question but a reassurance. 

“The first girl I fell in love with… I was… young. It was my best friend in middle school and I know it sounds juvenile  _ now _ , but back then it was like.” Louis shakes her head slowly. “Life and death, you know. Like she was the only girl I’d ever love, the only one who could possibly matter.”

Harry’s lips twitch into a small smile. “I remember the feeling.”

Louis smiles too. “Yeah… and so I thought I had to tell her. That I  _ had  _ to confess or I’d be a coward or something.” She clears her throat. “So. I told her. I wrote a letter to her and made her a mixed CD and everything.” Even at the memory, Louis’ cheeks burn. 

“That’s lovely,” Harry says, voice warm with fondness. 

“Yeah well, she didn’t think so. She… she got really mad, starting yelling at me and saying I was disgusting, that I was sick.” 

It’s the first time Louis has told another girl about this, not counting her mother of course, and for some reason it’s different from when she told Niall. Like the shame and the guilt, the anger and devastation, becomes crystal clear in Harry’s company. Because it could’ve been her. Harry could’ve been the girl she fell for and who ended up rejecting her. Or Harry could’ve been the girl who got rejected, who got her heart mangled up in all the wrong ways. 

“Then she told the whole school about it and it’s not like I was popular before, but after that it got… hostile.”

That’s the only word she knows to describe the feeling. Walking through the halls the following week, feeling the stares burn into her, the sneers and the words whispered just loudly enough. 

“And like…” She takes a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves, knowing she’s almost done with what she wants to say. “I’m over it, I mean I’ve… worked through most of it, it’s just. I never really felt like opening up like that afterwards. I felt like I had given the biggest part of me to someone and they just walked all over it, and I promised myself not to get hurt like that again.” 

Harry’s hand is warm and damp against her neck, her breath against Louis’ cheek as well. “I’m so sorry love.” 

Louis realizes Harry is struggling not to cry. 

“It’s… it’s just that obviously I wasn’t very keen on dating after that and then when I went to college I just got too busy with everything. School and meetings and… when you… when you fight for something it’s sometimes hard remember yourself. It’s easy to forget that you can do things just because they’re nice or feel good. Even if they’re scary.”

“Please don’t,  _ in any way _ , feel bad about that. This is. God, I wish I could… I don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it rather than just, trying to date you without asking, that’s really… weird.”

Louis can’t help but smiling, her heart warm. “Just a bit but, I like your weird.”

Harry’s smile makes Louis’ toes curl up. “Thanks for telling me, I’m sorry you had to go through that. But I… please know, I’m  _ so _ in love with you. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have found you.”

Even now it’s hard for Louis to comprehend it. “I think it was me who found you, remember?” Her nose scrunches up with the stupid joke. 

Harry rolls her eyes. “I think I deserve some credit for asking to see you and like, being really embarrassingly attracted to the girl who threw paint at me.”

“You were?” Louis asks because they haven’t really talked about it.

“Are you kidding? When you walked into that café and I realized it was you, I nearly bailed. You looked so confident, so sexy and just…” Harry lets out a breath that makes her lips flutter and Louis laughs softly. 

“I thought you were gorgeous, but it was mostly annoying because I didn’t want you to have an advantage over me,” Louis admits. 

“That’s ridiculous, you could’ve been really scary or violent or something, I didn’t exactly feel like I had the upper hand.”

“Well, I’m not so.”

“Pretty intimidating, but yeah, not scary.”

“You shouldn’t talk about intimidating, you look like you don’t even belong in this world.”

Harry’s brows draw together and her smile wavers over her lips. “What, like an alien or something?” 

Louis laughs again. “Yeah, just like an alien.”

\---

There’s a heavy breath against Louis’ neck, warm enough to make her skin damp with it, and Louis wakes up right in the middle of a shiver. It runs up her spine to the base of her neck and then down, far down to pool at the pit of her stomach. 

To throb between her legs. 

Harry is curled up against her side, lips close to her skin and one long leg thrown across Louis’ hips. The bare skin of her thigh just one itsy tiny bit of fabric away from Louis’ pelvic bone and Louis pulses again at the thought. 

By now they’ve slept in the same bed a few times, but it’s never been like this before. They’ve used the excuse of a late hour, or falling asleep watching a movie, to curl up together still in their clothes. Perfectly safe. Until last night. 

Louis had asked her over and they’d spent the evening drinking tea and talking about their week. As they started yawning in tandem Harry had looked at her, a hint of teasing slyness to her soft smile. 

“I brought an overnight bag.” 

And just like that Louis’ body had gone haywire. It had taken Harry some time to calm her down, to make her a little less adamant about changing the sheets and telling her about how to use the shower. They had ended up on Louis’ matress, Harry in a long t-shirt and Louis with shorts and a tank. And even if they’ve technically slept and woken up like this before—it seemed like worlds apart to Louis. Like the clothes they were wearing, the  _ intent _ of them, made the whole thing much more real. Like a proper couple, sharing a bed, Harry’s long legs so very bare and soft against her and Louis’ felt her blood boil.

For some reason their lovely, wonderful, hot make out sessions have never gone beyond… well, making out. Ever since that first time on the quilt, they’ve both kept their hands firmly above waists and they haven’t so much as touched each other’s tits. And Louis wants to. She really, really wants to touch Harry in every possible way. Wants to taste her and feel her and make her tremble. Wants to know the sounds she’d make. Wants to know if she’s loud or quiet. If she likes it wet and messy, soft or hard. 

Louis has figured it’s newness and nerves and general awkwardness on both of their parts, but by now she’s… growing a little desperate. Every touch from Harry sends her spiraling. Makes her feel like that edge is closer than ever. That just the brush of lips could push her over. 

Right now Louis is just trying to cope with the weight of Harry’s thigh over her midriff, of her skin sticking to Louis’ where her top as ridden up. Harry’s skin where they connect looks so soft, like pastel satin and Louis wishes she could reach down and touch. She swallows. 

“Mornin’,” Harry grumbles, her voice so gruff it sends shivers down Louis’ spine. “Didn’t mean to hog you like this.” She pulls away and even though Louis can finally breathe normally again, she already misses the contact.

“Good morning,” Louis greets and leans in for a small kiss, because at least she dares to do  _ that  _ now. 

Harry pushes dimples into her pillowcase and Louis’ belly flutters. She’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Curly hair a frizzy mess all around her head, skin warm with sleep and her eyes only halfway open. 

“You want breakfast, sweetheart?” Louis rasps out and flushes with how gentle she sounds. 

“That’d be great,” Harry nods and Louis determinedly sits up and with a last touch to Harry’s arm she gets up. The idea of staying in bed and breathing in Harry’s salty sweet scent is way too tempting and she really needs to get ready for class. 

She heads over to her kitchen nook and turns on the electric kettle she might’ve, maybe, gotten for Harry as she hears the shower starting up in the bathroom. While the tea brews she manages to get dressed and by the time she’s fried two eggs and made toast Harry comes out of the bathroom. She’s wearing black tights and a grey sweater, her hair dripping dark spots all over her shoulders. 

“Looks great,” she says and comes up behind Louis where she’s setting the table. Long fingers curl beneath the hem of Louis’ shirt to rest against her belly and Harry kisses her at the nape of her neck. Louis melts against her, soaking up the warmth radiating from Harry’s shower hot body. 

Louis lets out a sigh of contentment, leaning her head against Harry’s shoulder. “Had a good shower?” 

“Mmhm, thanks. I’m starving now,” Harry kisses her neck again before falling into one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. 

Louis pours tea and coffee into their cups and Harry peers at her. “What?” She asks and laughs, trying to suppress the flush of her cheeks that still is way too recurring in Harry’s company. 

“I have a question,” Harry says, smiling innocently.

“You and your questions.” Louis snorts and reaches over the table to brush her thumb into a dimple. 

“Well you see,” Harry continues. “As you know, I’ve got the charity event for the Heart to Heart association coming up on Saturday and I was wondering if you’d wanna go with me?”

Louis does know that. Harry has been telling her about the issues they’ve had with the catering and everything. Louis just never thought this would be the kind of event Harry would want to bring  _ her  _ to. A viewing of  _ Star Wars _ , sure. A posh charity event? Not likely. Her stomach grows tight and she feels slightly nauseous all off a sudden. 

Does Harry expect her to suddenly fit in with her crowd? To somehow magically fit in with people who think that the peak of political awareness is giving money when they have so much they barely notice the difference? People who look like they’ve been airbrushed into perfection while Louis mostly just looks like a ratty uni student who sleeps too little.

“I don’t think so,” Louis says, eyebrows drawn together. She doesn’t like being upset with Harry, wants this uneasiness to go away because just a minute ago she was fluttering with butterflies. 

Harry’s face falls, her easy smile growing stiff. “Why not?”

“I just don’t think it’s my thing, I’m sure you’d be better off without me there.” Louis tries for a smile but she’s sure she fails.

“How can you say that?” Harry’s eyes flicker over Louis’ face, her voice wobbling slightly. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I… you know I don’t like that kind of stuff? Don’t you have some other friend you could bring or...?” Louis’ heart speeds up with each word because this is starting to feel an awful lot like arguing and she hates it. Feels like she’s heading straight for disaster. 

“Friend?” Harry asks, color rising in her cheeks. “Maybe I don’t want to bring ‘a friend’, maybe I want to bring my bloody _girlfriend.”_

For a moment everything goes silent. Their heavy breaths are the only thing Louis can hear as her mind goes blank. She’s staring at the shine in Harry’s beautiful eyes, the heat in her cheeks that nearly radiates over to Louis at the other side of the table. She doesn’t look airbrushed at all. Doesn’t look plastic or fake. Only like that mixture of salt and sugar that she leaves on Louis’ tongue. Warm and messy, filled to the brim with emotions so strong it leaves Louis breathless. 

Girlfriend. 

“Oh.” 

Louis’ cheeks burn and her head falls forward in shame. Doesn’t want to look into Harry’s earnest eyes, doesn’t want to see the hurt or the unanswered questions. 

Maybe it’s not about Louis fitting in with anyone else but with Harry. 

“Well, I guess then… I… that would be alright,” Louis stutters. She doesn’t dare to look up, only waits for Harry’s disappointment to bleed through. 

Only, Harry chuckles quietly and breathes out. “Would it now?” 

Louis looks up at her in bewilderment. She’s smiling, eyes bright with mirth and Louis is once again thrown with the twists and turns of Harry’s emotions. Harry reaches over the table to capture Louis’ hand in hers. 

“I know it’s selfish of me to ask, because I  _ know _ it’s not your thing but… I worked really hard on this and… I know it’s not like, the most important thing in the world or anything, but I’d just really like to share it with you.” 

”Of course you can ask… I just. I’m sorry. I haven’t. I’m not used to… I know it’s important to you, of course you should have your girlfriend with you.” Her voice is weirdly airy like there’s not enough oxygen in the room and her cheeks are flaming, but at least she got the words out. Eventually. 

“Thank you.” Harry places a soft kiss over Louis’ knuckles and in that moment Louis can’t even recall why she wouldn’t want to go in the first place. 

\---

Louis shifts nervously on the couch, pulling at the knees of her slacks to avoid creasing. After discussing her lack of fancy clothes, Harry encouraged her and said she’d be the most handsome person in the room no matter what, and Louis might’ve melted a little. So here she is now, black slacks and the black jacket she only usually wears to professional events for school. She’s wearing it over a new white t-shirt and with black brogues. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, Louis had felt too dressed up and not dressed up enough all at the same time, but the second Harry layed eyes on her she’d pulled her in for a heated kiss so she thinks she’ll be fine. 

Right now she’s waiting for Harry to get ready. She might’ve been a little early showing up at Harry’s apartment, so her girlfriend had only been dressed in a robe when she showed up. Harry hasn’t told her what she’s going to wear and by now Louis has pictured everything from a gala gown to a strict suit. Dress codes really aren’t her thing at all. 

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Harry shouts from the bedroom and Louis’ pulse thuds heavy. 

Her mind wavers between detailed fantasies of all things that could go wrong tonight and drawing blanks. Louis’ biggest hope is she won’t be visibly sweaty from nerves. 

“What do you think?” Suddenly Harry is a lot closer, standing in the open space of her living room floor, hands perched on her waist as she poses with a big grin. 

Louis’ jaw nearly drops. Out of all the things she pictured,  _ this  _ was not it. Harry looks like something out of her wildest dreams and her mouth  _ floods  _ at the sight of her. 

She’s surely wearing a fancy skirt and a nice pair of heels, but all Louis can see is the silvery piece of silk of Harry’s strappy top. It looks like pure silver against Harry’s pale freckled skin, her neck seemingly endless as the fabric dips softly down her cleavage. And then there’s… Louis draws her knees together subconsciously as she pulses between her legs. 

Underneath that thin layer of silk, Harry’s nipples stand out in stark contrast to the smooth fabric. Louis  _ has  _ been very aware of how absolutely gorgeous Harry’s tits are, has dreamed about them on more than one occasion, but to see that she’s clearly not wearing a bra underneath that thin top makes her shiver.

“You like it?” 

Harry’s question snaps Louis out of her trance like state and with flaming cheeks she looks up at the glint in Harry’s eyes. Louis nods dumbly.

“God, you’re…” she doesn’t get much further than that because then Harry is moving towards her and Louis’ eyes involuntarily flicker down to her breasts again. 

When Harry comes up to her and tilts her head up with a knuckle under her chin, it’s like looking up at a goddess. Harry is smiling like she’s pleased with what she sees in Louis’ eyes and Louis’ fingers curl where they rest on top of her thighs. 

She lets out a wet gasp as Harry’s thumb brushes against her bottom lip and before she knows it, Harry is crowding in on her, pulling her skirt up to straddle Louis’ lap. Louis falls back against the backrest, overwhelmed with Harry so close. 

“Is this alright?” Harry asks and Louis nods again. 

“C-can I touch you?” she asks because she thinks she’ll crumble if she doesn’t. 

Harry leans down to brush her lips against her ear. “Please.”

With a gush of air pushing its way out of Louis’ chest, she puts her hands at Harry’s waist. The silk feels like water underneath her fingers and Harry’s warmth bleeds through. Her eyes travel slowly from Harry’s waist—over those mouth watering nipples that Louis wants to suck on until the air runs out out of her lungs—to the dewy skin of her neck and that’s when she notices the rapid rise and fall of Harry’s chest. She looks up at her, for a moment scared something is wrong, but then she sees the look in Harry’s eyes and knows she just as desperate. 

“Please,” Harry whispers again and her voice breaks. 

Louis surges forward to kiss her, courage found in the look in Harry’s eyes, in the reassurance that she’s not alone in her desire, that Harry meets her halfway. 

With her mouth occupied with Harry’s, their tongues quickly finding each other between the press of their lips, Louis’ hands start to wander. Over Harry’s trembling ribcage and to the swell of her chest. Louis feels lightheaded, too much and too little oxygen all at once as her thumbs caress along the bottom of Harry’s breasts. 

“You want me to touch you?” she asks, as if Harry hadn’t already pleaded with her to. 

Their breaths are wet in the small space between them, shared and more intimate than anything. “Yeah.”

Louis’ hands slide over the silk and her cunt pulses when her fingers capture Harry’s hardness gently. Her tits barely a handful, her nipples drawn together so tightly Louis can feel the rise of her areola. She needs to get her mouth on her.

“Oh god.” Harry moans out, her head falling back as Louis’ lips drag down the expanse of her throat. Harry’s fingers tangle up in Louis’ hair, pushing herself against Louis’ wanting mouth. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Louis mumbles, carefully pinching Harry’s nipples and reveling in the way it makes Harry’s breath stutter. 

Louis pushes her nose against Harry’s sternum, letting her lips ghost over the skin between her small tits. Harry is writhening against her, like she can’t control the trembling of her muscles and Louis already feels the wet slide in her own underwear as she moves her crotch slowly over the couch seat. 

Her tongue is wet as she reaches out to take Harry’s right nipple in her mouth. Even through the fabric the sensation makes her groan, makes her want to bite down and suck until Harry falls apart. So she does. Carefully, she captures the nipple between her teeth and lets her wet mouth soak the fabric as her tongue flicks over the hard nub. 

Harry  _ keens  _ at Louis’ administrations, body pushing closer and her fingers curling tightly in Louis’ hair. “What are you doing to me,” she breathes out and Louis groans with eagerness. 

Louis pinches the wet nipple with her hand as her mouth travels over the fabric to capture the other one between her lips. Harry’s crotch feels like fire against her thigh and Louis slides against the wetness in her own panties, wants so desperately to get some relief against the cushion. She can’t believe how close she is just from this. From Harry’s tits in her mouth and the loud moans escaping past her kiss-swollen lips. 

The phone signal cuts through the air like a lightning strike, pulling them away from each other with a jolt. Harry just stares at Louis for a moment, like she doesn’t know what happened, until the phone rings again. 

“Oh,” she says between deep breaths. “Must be… the car.” 

She reaches for the phone beside her on the couch, still perched in Louis lap. 

“It’s Harry… um, yeah thanks, we’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

In the few seconds it takes Harry to communicate with the driver, Louis realizes in horror what she’s done. She gasps as she takes in the absolutely _ruined_ top, massive wet patches all over her chest. Her cheeks heat up so quickly it’s almost painful. What the fuck did she just do? 

As soon as Harry has hung up the phone she stumbles out an apology. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I ruined your top, I—”

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ feel sorry about that,” Harry says sternly. She leans down to give Louis a firm peck on the lips. “I almost came just from having my tits played with.” 

Then she’s off Louis’ lap and Louis only just manages to catch her grin before she’s turned around and leaving the room. Louis falls back on the couch with a loud groan and before she knows what she’s doing, she’s pushed her hand down the waistband of her pants and underwear. Her fingers get soaked the second she slides between her swollen folds and she shuts her eyes tightly as she presses hard against her clit. All it takes is a few thrust of her fingers against her clit and she’s coming so hard her thighs draw up from the cushion. She curls in on herself, body trembling with the force of her orgasm. 

After a minute she manages to catch her breath and when she pulls her hand out of her pants, she groans with embarrassment. She can’t believe she just jerked one off on Harry’s couch,  _ without Harry _ , because she was so fucking desperate she couldn’t wait. 

Her fingers are sticky with come and she pulls herself off the couch and out into the kitchen. Washing her hands, she tries to calm down her breathing. God they’re going to be late, and just because Louis couldn’t keep her hands to herself. Fuck. She’ll never forgive herself if she ruins this night for Harry.

When she comes back into the living room Harry is pulling her hair back into a twisted bun in front of the mirror. She throws a smile at Louis over her shoulder and Louis’ belly swoops. She’s wrapped in a sleek black dress that hugs her hips beautifully and Louis doesn’t know how many red carpet looks a person can have in their closet, but apparently it’s more than one. 

“Wow,” Louis breathes out as she walks up to her, earlier embarrassment forgotten. “You look beautiful.” For a second she’s grabbed by that surreal feeling of Harry living in another dimension, where it’s possible to go from halfway to fucked to the perfect picture of elegance in a matter of minutes. 

Then Harry meets her eyes in the mirror, eyes gleaming with heat and cheeks flushed rosy. “Thank you love.”

It’s difficult to keep their hands off each other as they head into the hallway and Harry helps Louis pull herself together a bit before they head out. Straightening her lapels and brushing fingers through her bangs. “You’re so fit,,” she says, leaning in to kiss Louis one last time before they head out to the waiting car. ”Bloody unbelievable.”

Louis can’t stop grinning until the car is a block away from the venue.

\---

They’ve made an agreement, because Louis might’ve softened up like butter in the sun when Harry said she wanted to take her  _ girlfriend _ to the charity event, but Louis is still, in fact, not fond of cameras. So the deal is that Louis rides with Harry to the event, but then heads inside through the side entrance while Harry talks to the media and poses for photos. 

As the car slows to a stop, Louis is very happy Harry agreed to their arrangement because only just leaving the car with Harry makes her palms sweat.

“Do I look okay?” she asks, nervous about sweat stains and wrinkles.

“You look amazing.” Harry kisses her and the press of soft lips calms Louis’ nerves somewhat. 

Harry climbs out of the car first and Louis can already see the flashing cameras. Her heart throws itself against her ribcage and she swallows against the urge to barf. 

“Come on darling,” Harry says and offers her hand for Louis to take. 

There’s only about thirty feet to the official photography area, and Louis has her eyes set on it from the moment she leaves the car. If she just manages to get Harry over there, she’ll be able to slip inside. She glances at Harry who smiles at the cameras that are already pointing in her direction. Harry looks steady and calm and Louis tries to focus on that. 

Steady and calm. 

When they arrive at the fenced off area, Louis’ hand comes up to rest at Harry’s waist.

“See you inside, yeah?” 

Harry smiles at her, “Of course.” 

Louis gives her waist a small squeeze before she hurries away from the cameras. Once she’s over by the door she turns for a moment to catch sight of Harry walking down red carpet. 

It’s obvious that Harry is in her element here. The way her body naturally blends from pose to pose, how her smile glimmers in her eyes but doesn’t wobble into the full blown dorky one she so often gives Louis. 

Instead of letting it intimidate her, Louis looks at Harry in fascination. It’s like she knows a language completely foreign to Louis and she shudders at the idea of how out of place she’d look next to Harry. How her hunched shoulders and nervous smile would translate through the cameras. No thanks. 

A hostess welcomes her at the entrance and as she states she’s here with Harry she fears for a moment like she’s going to get  _ caught _ . That someone in security will recognise her and throw her out, that her obvious wrongness will shine like a beacon, but before she knows it she’s got a glass of champagne in her hand. 

The place looks about the way she pictured—heavy fabrics decorating the walls and fancy table settings. She tries not to freak out about what’s to come. Somehow she’d only focused on the arrival, but now that she’s here she realises she might have to like. Engage with people. 

She sticks to the side of the entrance, waiting for Harry and by the time she has forcibly stopped herself from hyperventilating twice, Harry enters the venue. There’s a group of people surrounding her, as if she’s picked up a whole entourage on the way inside, and Louis’ belly squirms with nerves. It’s getting easier to accept Harry’s attention when it’s just the two of them, but the thought of Harry still choosing her when there are other people around makes her break out in cold sweat. 

Harry is talking to a beautiful blonde woman and Louis hates the twist in her gut, the uncertainty she still feels about everything to do with Harry. Not because she doesn’t trust her, but because it all feels a little too weird and good and random to be true. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Harry to be with someone like the blonde girl? Someone who looks equally flawlessly perfect and who doesn’t hover in corners like a creep. Wouldn’t it make more sense if Harry and Louis didn’t get along? That instead of growing closer each day, there wouldn’t have been anything other than a huge rift between them since the moment Louis threw a container of red paint over her? 

But nothing does make sense. And now Harry is looking at her. 

The moment their eyes meet, there’s that huge dorky smile all over Harry’s face, dimples deep and eyes crinkled up, and Louis wonders how she thought the universe ever made sense before. Before this. Because as Harry approaches her, Louis has never felt more at home in another’s eyes. 

“Hello handsome,” Harry drawls out and reaches for her hand, long fingers grasping at Louis’ warm sweaty ones. 

Louis snorts but her belly swarms with delight. “Hello there, everything alright out there?”

“Yup, kinda missed you though.” If it weren’t for the splotches of dark pink on her cheeks, Louis would’ve thought she was joking. She swallows. 

This is real. Harry is real. 

“I’m right here,” she says, voice coming out raspy and she blushes too. 

For a few still moments they stand like that, rosy-cheeked and starry-eyed, lost in each other and at the same time not lost at all. 

Eventually something catches Harry’s attention and she clears her throat and smiles bashfully. “Come on, I want to introduce you to some people.”

Still a little too caught up in Harry, Louis only nods. Here it goes. 

\---

Turns out, it isn’t too bad. Harry stays by her side the whole time, fingers grazing against Louis’ knuckles and warm smiles as Louis talks to people about her studies and it being her first time at an event like this. Louis  _ is  _ painfully new to this whole thing, the free food and fancy drinks, but even if she sticks out like a sore thumb, she finds that she doesn’t really mind. She doesn’t have to be like these people to support Harry, she only has to be Harry’s person and that makes it all alright. 

There’s a silent auction happening at one part of the venue and during dinner there’s speeches about compassion and humanity. All a little glitzed up of course, but when Harry gets up on the stage to talk about why she believes research in women’s health is so important, Louis’ throat gets thick with pride. Harry is eloquent and sharp as she talks about the lack of research in the field. She looks powerful even as she charms the crowd with a few british quips and Louis drinks up every word she says as if parched.

With emotion thick in her throat and her mind awe struck with Harry’s words, there’s still part of her that’s buzzing from earlier that night. Harry against her, worked up and awe inspiring in a completely different way, and Louis doesn’t know what to do with the way Harry makes her body draw in so many different directions. 

When Harry comes back from the stage she’s out of breath and her eyes wide with excitement. “How did it go? Did I do alright?” 

“You’re so amazing.” Louis grins helplessly. “Thank you for taking me here. I’m glad I got to see that.”

There’s a moment of something calm and heavy in Harry’s eyes before she smiles again. “Thank you, that means a lot to me.”

With a rush of courage Louis leans over to place a kiss on Harry’s cheek. Her skin is warm and Louis feels her dimple dip beneath her lips. The way Harry looks at her when they part is all the reassurance Louis has ever needed. 

She’s not alone in this love.

—-

After dinner there’s a dance performance on stage and people gather in small groups to enjoy it with a glass of champagne in their hands. Louis and Harry head over to a good spot at the side of the stage and Harry pulls Louis close. With a couple of glasses of bubbly and the insistent buzzing in her veins, Louis’ neck flushes with the proximity and she rests her hands at Harry’s waist. 

Just feeling her body heat through the fabric of her dress, makes Louis lick her lips as her mouth floods. The performance is explosive in front of them, a flurry of fabrics and elegant limbs seemingly flying through the air, but all Louis can do is focus on the rise and fall of the back of Harry’s shoulders against her chest. 

“You’re so incredible, I can’t believe you’re mine,” she whispers against the shell of Harry’s ear. 

At first she thinks that Harry hasn’t heard her, but then Harry tilts her head slightly to the side, her long neck stretching out against Louis’ cheek. 

“Look so amazing tonight, don’t know how to keep my hands off of you…” Louis goes on, interpreting Harry’s body language as encouragement. Harry bites her bottom lip and leans heavily against her, tilting her head to the side. 

“You don’t have to,” she says and Louis’ heart speeds up in her chest. 

She nuzzles slightly into Harry’s neck and lets her hand fall a few inches on her hip. With eyes trained on the stage, her fingers graze against the top of Harry’s thigh and even through the dress she can feel Harry’s muscles tense up. 

Taking a deep breath Louis tries to calm the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She’s quickly flooding with arousal, her crotch pressing against Harry’s backside and she has to remind herself where they are. The crowd is bathed in darkness to highlight the performance on stage, but if anyone would look over she’s doubtful it’s dark enough to cover the dip of her hand. 

As she lets her hand slowly travel up the outside of Harry’s thigh to gently brush her knuckles against the swell of Harry’s ass, Harry suddenly pulls away from her. Louis is drawn out of her haze for a moment, but then Harry has turned around and her pupils are blown wide. 

“We need to get out of here,” Harry says and then she’s pulling Louis away. 

Yet again surprised by Harry’s actions Louis stumbles after her, breath caught in her throat. 

“Don’t you- don’t you have to…” 

Harry stops and turns, hand coming up to cup the side of Louis’ face. “I need you at home in a bed  _ right now  _ or I’m going to pass out, alright?” 

“Alright,” Louis agrees without thinking. 

This girl is going to drive her mad in the best way possible.

\---

They end up going to Louis’ because with traffic this time of the night it’s a faster route. Even though her actions at the charity event might’ve indicated differently, Louis really is prude enough not to dare touch Harry in the car. This is a driver she’s met before after all, and the thought of looking him in the eyes after she’s done unspeakable things in his car, is enough to make her curl her fists tightly in her lap. 

The moment they’re inside the door Harry runs inside the bathroom without a single word and Louis is equally rushed in her movements as she heads over to her bed to make sure the covers aren’t too messed up, that the nightstand lamp is switched on.

Her mind is unfocused besides a constant chant of  _ it’s happening, it’s fucking happening, oh my fucking god it’s happening  _ and her hands tremble as she pushes her jacket off her shoulders. She throws it over the back of the couch and stares at the closed bathroom door. Harry is  _ just on the other side  _ of that door, and she happens to be the most gorgeous woman Louis has ever met. And she wants to like.  _ Have sex _ with Louis. Presumably. 

Louis is two seconds away from spinning into another endless circle of  _ fuck fuck fuck it’s actually fucking happening  _ when the bathroom door swings open. 

Harry just stands there for a moment, staring right back at Louis with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. Her neat updo is a little wonky, a few curls falling down to her shoulders and her dress is slightly twisted over her hips. Louis’ belly drops so heavily she has to lock her knees not to topple over. 

Then Harry moves closer. 

Slowly she walks on bare feet over the creaking floor and Louis’ hands reach out for her automatically. Harry rests her head against Louis’ shoulder as they melt together, Louis’ arms circling around Harry’s waist and Harry resting her hands against Louis’ biceps. Harry sighs deeply.

“I literally spent a minute in there debating whether I should get undressed or not.”

“What?” Louis chuckles in surprise.

“I figured I’d just come out here in my knickers and be all sexy like, but then I chickened out.” 

Her breath is warm against Louis’ neck and her words fold like a comfort blanket over Louis’ nerves. 

She’s not alone in this.

“You  _ are _ ‘all sexy like’, undressed or not,” she says and lets her fingers travel up the expanse of Harry’s back. “I feel like I’m gonna burst out of my skin just looking at you.”

Harry pushes her nose beneath Louis’ ear, lips brushing against her neck as she speaks. “Can’t believe I’m this lucky, you’re the fittest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Harry’s hands pull at Louis’ t-shirt until it comes out of her slacks, and then her hands curve over Louis’ belly. The heat of Harry’s touch feels like a punch, instant and overwhelming. 

“Can I undress you?” Her cheeks flame at the words, awkward and weirdly formal, but Harry swallows audibly and nods. 

Louis finds the zipper at the back of Harry’s dress and carefully starts pulling it down. She revels in every new inch of skin under her fingers, goes a little breathless when she can feel the tiny bumps of freckles. 

Harry pulls away when the zipper stops at the small of her back, reaching up to drag the dress off her shoulders. Underneath the dress she’s got a sheer bralette and Louis just stands there gaping as the dress falls to the floor. 

“These are a bit ridiculous, but they work best with the dress,” Harry comments about the tiny panties on her hips, as if Louis would _judge_ _her_ for her underwear, but the truth is Louis can barely hear her. She can only just take in the beauty of Harry’s skin, the endless legs and the curve of her love handles, the way her dark areolas cover most of her small tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” she breathes out and looks up at Harry in awe. 

Harry smiles, dimples deep in her cheeks. “Let me see you.” She twists her fingers in Louis’ shirt. 

Still in awe and a little dizzy with want, Louis pulls the shirt over her head without a moment of hesitation. All she wants is to feel Harry against her. Skin against skin. Quickly she also removes her sports bra and Harry  _ whines  _ at the sight of her. 

“Oh god.” Before Louis has time to get insecure, Harry’s hands come up to cup her breasts. 

Louis is possibly burning up, her whole chest flushing at the way Harry looks at her but she can’t focus on that now. Not when Harry’s hands feel so good and all she wants is to be closer.

She pulls Harry into a kiss with a groan and Harry opens up for her instantly. She’s never kissed anyone who kisses like Harry. Pliant and hungry all at once, pushing closer but letting Louis set the pace—it makes her belly warm with arousal. 

They move towards the bed and kiss clumsily as they crawl on top of it. Harry on her back and Louis hovering over her, hands clutching at every inch of skin she can reach, wanting to know every curve and sharp bend of Harry’s body. 

Before long, Louis’ hands come up to cover Harry’s breasts and they both gasp at the sensation. Ribcages pressed tightly together and heaving as they breathe hot against each other’s lips. Harry scrambles to drag her bralette up over her head and then Louis can feel her hard nipples skin against skin for the first time. Louis pulses with the moans that sound like they’re drawn out of Harry’s belly, deep and shuddery. 

“Your mouth, want your mouth again,” Harry says and Louis is more than eager to comply. With stuttering breath she slides down Harry’s body and attaches her mouth over a nipple, her tongue lapping over the pebbled skin and Harry shivers beneath her. Louis is so turned on her cunt keeps flexing, as if it can’t wait for what’s to come, can’t wait for friction and heat and fuck, her thighs are already getting sticky with wet. 

“God you’re so sexy,” she says, pinching Harry’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger just to hear Harry moan. 

Harry’s fingers drag though the short hair at Louis’ nape and her body is writhing against her, her heels dragging against the sheets as she tries to get closer. “Lemme touch you, god, I’m…”

Louis wants to give Harry everything, anything she wants, wants to spend hours and hours listening to her every whimper and plea, but with the way Harry  _ groans _ as her teeth bite down on her nipple, it’s hard to know what she should prioritise. Because she could surely spend a lifetime with her mouth on Harry’s tits, and she’d be perfectly content,  _ enthusiastically _ , for the rest of eternity. 

She gives herself another few moments and sucks Harry’s nipple into her mouth, feels her hard flesh against her tongue. It’s so hot she gets a little lost in it, her hand palming over Harry’s other breast. 

When she lets up to get some air in her lungs, she looks up to meet Harry’s eyes. Green looking nearly golden in the warm light from the lamp. 

“What do you want, baby?” Louis asks, breathing heavily against the damp skin of Harry’s chest. 

Harry groans. “For you to  _ always _ call me that.” 

Louis’ head falls forward and she chuckles with her lips against Harry’s sternum. “Done, what else?”

“Want to feel your pussy.”

The words hang in the air, their breaths heavy and Louis frozen hovering above Harry. Words so straightforward and filthy they should sound ridiculous, but in Harry’s deep raspy voice they sound like velvet. Like tight heat, and Louis’ cunt pulses.

“Oh my god.” She scrambles up to crash her lips into Harry’s, to take those words, to stop any more from leaving her impossible soft mouth. 

Her hands travel hungrily over Harry’s skin, suddenly in a hurry to feel more of her. To feel so much that she can finally feel like it’s enough. She wants Harry under her, with her, inside of her. Consumed by her. And Harry isn’t far behind. Big warm hands skid over Louis’ back, fingers scratching her lightly and goosebumps break out over her skin. 

“Take your clothes off and come here.”

Louis scrambles, limbs struggling to keep up as she stands up to get her pants and underwear off as quickly as she can manage. Before she has time to think any further she lets Harry pull her close and she’s straddled over Harry’s hips, naked from top to bottom and Harry’s skin sticky hot against her thighs. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing, trying not to get overwhelmed. 

Harry looks incredible like this, hair a mushed up mess, eyes shiny, lips bitten red. Her chest is heaving and Louis licks her lips as she stares at her chest, her perfect tits and her kiss swollen nipples. She’s a dream, a fantasy, but at the same time too real for Louis to grasp. She doesn’t look like a polished flawless runway model now, but a messy wanting woman from Louis’ most private fantasies and she never wants to stop looking at her. 

Harry bites her bottom lip and stares up into Louis’ eyes as her hand reaches down. Louis is holding her breath and then Harry’s fingers touch her heated flesh. 

“Oh my god, you’re so wet,” Harry gasps, fingertips slipping through slick and making Louis shiver, her nipples drawing up tight. 

Not knowing how to respond Louis just closes her eyes and swallows, soaking up the feeling of Harry touching her. And she’s  _ touching her _ , exploring and curious, carefully pulling at her swollen folds, her thumb brushing over her clit and then down the side where her pubes are drenched wet. 

Louis’ mouth is hanging slack as she can feel herself dripping, the suspension of Harry just touching her without purposely bringing her off so fucking hot it makes her dizzy. 

“I’m gonna die,” Harry whispers in awe, and then two of her fingers find Louis’ opening. Carefully she pushes them inside, eyes glued to where she’s touching her, and Louis’ thighs tremble. 

“Oh god,” Louis rasps, bending backwards and bracing herself against Harry’s legs for something to hold on to, to not float to the ceiling as Harry drags the pads of her fingers inside her until she finds her g-spot. “Fuck.” Louis hips jerk with it, silently begging Harry to keep going.

Harry does. She slides her fingers in and out of her, always pressing against Louis’ spot and  _ god  _ Louis feels like she’s vibrating. Her clit is throbbing so hard she thinks it must be visible, and she keeps letting these airy moans out, can’t seem to stop them. 

“You’re so fucking wet, I’m gonna die,” Harry says again and Louis kind of wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Yes, she’s fucking wet, is probably leaving a large puddle over Harry’s stomach but she’s never felt this good in her life. 

“I’m gonna come,” she gasps out, reaching her hand down to touch her clit, to jerk herself off, but Harry’s free hand pushes her away.

“Let me.” 

With one hand moving hard and steady up inside her, Harry uses the thumb of other hand to pull Louis apart, to see where she’s hard and desperate for touch. 

“Fuck, look at you.” 

It’s a good thing she didn’t know Harry had a mouth like this during sex, or she surely would’ve combusted long before they even got in bed together. Louis is so fucking close to coming, her cunt almost aching with how close she is, how fucking good it feels to be soaking Harry’s fingers, and then there’s pressure on her clit. 

Her head falls back and she pushes instinctively against Harry’s thumb, rubbing over the hood of her clit and Louis crumbles. She feels so good, she barely knows what to do with herself and her hips snap harshly against Harry’s hand, making her slide in her slick. 

“Yeah, yes, please, god,” Harry begs. “Please come on me.” 

Louis loses herself in the building pleasure, feeling it rising with each thrust of Harry’s fingers until she falls right over that edge. 

Her whole body draws tight and trembles as she rides Harry’s hand through it, her cunt convulsing. Harry is rambling something underneath her, but Louis can barely focus, only falls forward over Harry, lifting her hips up and away when it gets to be too much. 

She pushes her face against Harry’s neck, breathing in the warm salty air and letting the final trembles of her orgasm run through her. One of Harry’s hands comes up to caress over her back and she feels herself get choked up at the intimacy. She can’t believe she just did that, let herself give in like that for Harry, and she pushes her lips against the damp skin of Harry’s neck. 

“You’re so amazing,” Harry whispers and brings her hands up to cradle Louis’ cheeks, leaning back to look her in the eyes. “I’ve got your come down to my elbow.”

Ignoring her own blush, Louis pushes through her embarrassment. “ _ You’re  _ amazing,” she says and places a kiss to her lips. “I love you so much.”

The words are out there before she can think it over but the intensified flush of Harry’s cheeks is worth it. The dimpled smile that follows worth crushing every self doubt and insecurity Louis has ever had, for. 

“I love you too,” Harry says and then they’re kissing again. 

Louis is still coming down, breath evening out, but soon enough Harry starts moving against her. Small whimpers escape her plush lips and her pupils blown. With her mind clearing up a bit, Louis is filled with the need to feel Harry, to touch her and make her cry out. 

With one last kiss she unstraddles Harry and move between her legs, nosing down her chest, kissing her breasts softly as she goes and caressing down Harry’s sides. Harry sighs and relaxes into the mattress and Louis’ nibbles carefully at the gorgeous skin of her belly before her chin slides through something wet. 

Wrinkling her nose, she backs away a bit and looks up to meet Harry’s twinkling eyes. “Oh my god, I’m sorry I frickin’ drenched you,” she gasps out, horrified when she makes the connection, but Harry just laughs like it’s the best thing ever. 

“It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says and squeezes Louis with her thighs for a moment before letting go. 

Louis grabs hold of the sheet and drags it over Harry carefully, trying to tidy things up a bit, but Harry just laughs again and curls in on herself a bit. “God stop, it’s  _ fine, _ please make me come instead.”

For weeks and weeks Louis thought it would be Harry’s nack for surprising her that would knock her out, but she’s starting to think it’s Harry in her bed that will. Jesus fucking Christ. 

She shuffles down a bit on the mattress and lies her heated cheek on Harry’s thigh, nose so close to her cunt she can smell the heat of her, and she reaches up the graze her knuckles over Harry’s panties. Harry lets out a small content sigh and Louis licks her lips. She wants her mouth on her. 

Swallowing the saliva flooding her mouth, Louis traces her fingers over the waistband of Harry’s panties. Everything is so hot, Harry’s skin sticky with sweat and Louis tilts her head, letting her tongue reach out and taste. Her thigh is pale and freckled just like the rest of her, so soft and beautiful Louis wants to mark her. She attaches her mouth just where her thigh is softest and sucks, encouraged by Harry’s groan.

As she works with her mouth, she starts pulling Harry’s panties down, and when she pulls back to see the small mark she’s left on her skin, she pulls the panties all the way off. 

Then she’s just staring. 

Harry is shaven almost completely bare, only a small triangle of hair on top of her mound, and Louis’ goes a little breathless. She’s never been with anyone this clean shaven before and while she loves pubic hair matted down with wet, she can’t say she minds the look of Harry either. Louis fears she’s going to pass out between Harry’s legs at the sight of her. Her inner labia is so fucking big and wet, her clit visibly swollen, and Louis nearly _dies._ Before another breath has escaped from her, she dives down tongue first into Harry’s heat. 

She groans at the salty sweet bitter taste, grabbing hold of Harry’s legs to pull her closer. It’s safe to say she goes a little mad with it, but she can’t fucking help it. Harry feels unbelievable against her mouth, hot and slick and Louis sucks on her pussy lips, flicks her tongue over her clit and dips down to taste at her opening. She can’t stop moaning against Harry’s heat, but Harry is loud too. 

“Oh god, what the fuck are you doing to me?” Harry undulates her hips against Louis’ mouth. 

“Making you come,” Louis mumbles as she reaches one hand up to help out. She plants firm kisses around Harry’s clit before softly putting it in her mouth, tongue stroking slowly but firm over her. With her hand she feels the soft wetness at Harry’s opening, gathering her slick as Harry moans out loudly. Louis can tell she’s getting close, so she curls her fingers and lets a knuckle drag down her perineum and down to the tight pucker of her asshole. It’s a gamble really, but one that turns out to be right, with her mouth sucking and licking at Harry’s clit, the slight pressure of her knuckle against her, makes Harry’s whole body go taught. 

“What the  _ fuck,”  _ Harry groans and grabs hold of Louis’ head, holding her tight as her body loses control. 

Louis doesn’t know how long it takes, doesn’t care that it’s a little hard to breathe being pressed to Harry like this, because it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. 

Like a drawstring snapping, Harry eventually falls back against the mattress and Louis can pull back to breathe. Licking her lips, she slowly crawls up to lie beside Harry, gently pulling the trembling girl against her and wiping at wetness at the corner of her eyes. The choked up feeling once again rises in Louis throat and she’s overcome with tenderness. 

Harry looks at her with eyes so vulnerable and open, Louis’ breath stutters in her chest. She had no idea it could feel like this. Terrifyingly earth shattering and overwhelmingly safe all at once. Harry cuddles in close to her, lips against Louis’ cheek and hands getting tangled up tightly with Louis’ between their bodies. 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Harry says into the silence that’s fallen and if she wasn’t worn out with sex and heat and love, limbs heavy and mind still, Louis might’ve snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. The way she’s been so obsessed with Harry’s unearthliness. Her perfect smile and intimidating charm. How she first seemed so untouchable, but turned out to be already making herself a nest beneath the surface of Louis’ skin. 

She kisses Harry softly on the lips. “This is the realest thing I’ve ever felt,” she says as it hits her and the green of Harry’s eyes smiles at her. 

As their breaths even out and their eyelids grow heavy, something settles in the ghosts of breaths over their warm bodies. Louis’ body grows attached to Harry’s scent, the sticky soft feeling of her skin and the small sighs she lets out. Without either of their knowledge their bodies get tied together in infinite ways, locking tight together to always leave a mark in each other.

\---

Waking up is abruptly disorienting, because while her body feels absolutely sated, it takes a while for Louis’ mind to catch up. She quickly realises how naked she is, just how much of Harry she feels pressed against her, a warm hand on her inner thigh, and her hand comes up to her mouth to cover a stupid grin that spreads over her face. 

Being in love is so much more than she thought it could be. Having always connected the feeling with fear and hurt, she now knows what it feels like when her heart nearly bursts. Too small to contain the feelings another person,  _ Harry _ , feeds into it. The way Harry’s exuberant energy has drawn Louis in one honking laugh at a time, keen eyes and never ending questions and thoughts dancing between their minds. 

When she looks at Harry’s sleeping face, lashes still colored dark and smudged against her cheeks, lips puffy and cracked, she can’t help but to reach out and touch. Fingers lightly tracing a small line at her temple. She’s been so caught up in others, in a cause or her studies that she hadn’t realised how little she had done for herself. Not for some greater good or moral high ground, but to mend her wounds and cotton the harsh edges in her heart. 

Just being around Harry for the past few weeks has made her come alive in ways not even adrenaline pumping through her veins ever could. 

Her hand stills as Harry’s eyes flicker beneath paper thin eyelids and Louis hold her breath as a dimple deepens in Harry’s cheeks.

“Good morning love,” Harry rasps out, before even opening her eyes. 

“Mornin’,” Louis grumbles, voice cracking in her throat. 

Once Harry opens her eyes they stare at each other for a few quiet moments, eyes exchanging whispers of memories as they glint. About last night. About the two of them and how they belong together. Incontestably. 

It’s the shrill signal of Louis’ phone that brings them out of the silent conversation and Louis rolls her eyes as she falls back against the mattress and reaches over to grab hold of her pants to find her phone. 

Eyes still crusted with sleep, she has to squint to see the message from Niall on the screen. 

**seems like u finally made it!!**

There’s an attached photo and she clicks on the link to see it, only to fall back onto the bed with a loud groan, cheeks burning hot. 

“What is it?” Harry asks, amusement in her voice and Louis shoves the phone at her. “Harry Styles getting friendly with mysterious gal pal at charity event.” Harry reads out loud and Louis cheeks burn even hotter with each word. “God, you looked hot last night.”

Louis looks up from the pillow and glares at Harry at that comment. “I look ridiculous! I thought I wasn’t supposed to be photographed if I didn’t go on the red carpet!” 

Harry’s eyebrows draw together. “You did  _ not  _ look ridiculous, you looked amazing,” she says, before tagging on, “Trust me I’m a fashion blogger” with a cheeky grin. “But I’m sorry you got papped when you didn’t want to, that’s on me.” 

With one look at Harry’s smile and her considerate eyes, Louis feels her inside grow soft in two seconds. “It’s not your fault, I just… what is that even supposed to mean?  _ Gal pal _ ?”

Harry snorts and looks down at the picture with the caption again. “Straight nonsense, what else is new?”

Louis shuffles closer to Harry and plants a kiss at her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. Just… you know I’m not with you for all that right? Like… I don’t want to be ‘Harry Styles’ gal pal’, I just want to be your girl.” 

A sharp eyebrow is raised and dimples waver over Harry’s cheeks. “Really? It’s not like you’ve made that  _ abundantly clear  _ or anything.” 

“I’m just saying,” Louis pouts and shoves lightly at Harry’s side. 

“I know, darling, but like… I know what you mean by that, but also, that’s  _ also  _ me you know? Or at least it’s part of my job.”

She looks insecure all of a sudden and Louis’ belly twists uncomfortably. 

“I know, I didn’t mean it like that. I love you and I’m proud of you, I think I’ll get used to it.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twists slightly. “Yeah?”

“I think for you I could get used to almost anything.”

“No need to get dramatic, but I  _ did _ get over getting paint thrown at my head for you.” Her grin is full blown.

“You did,” Louis says and her voice is softer than she ever knew it could be. 

Harry sprawls out over the mattress, her hair having fallen from the updo and lies like a messy halo around her head. Eyes sparkling and dimples deep.

Louis takes a deep breath and sinks into the soft sheets beside her. Her limbs still feel heavy and sated, and her heart beats steady against her ribcage. Even though the air outside is most likely crispy with chill, droplets of sweat has gathered at Louis’ neck. She’s warm and content. Everything is more than alright. 

She’s in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
